


Dragon Age Drabbles

by I_hate_mages_No_you_dont



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen, Sillyness, mostly the latter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:20:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 22,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/pseuds/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont
Summary: A collection of various drabbles based on the "Drabble challenge 1-150" with DA characters. Mostly fenders.Still ongoing if you want to send a prompt: http://selfmadeelf.tumblr.com/post/156459069088/drabble-challenge-1-150(by kittenmage)





	1. "He thinks he's a mind reader!" (54)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ithinkitsdashing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithinkitsdashing/gifts), [oldgrumpywizard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldgrumpywizard/gifts), [thejourneymaninn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/gifts), [thinkfirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkfirst/gifts), [TearsOfWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearsOfWinter/gifts), [Dirty_Corza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/gifts), [blueelvewithwings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @TheJourneyManInn

“Why is Anders staring at Fenris?” Merrill casually leaned towards Isabela, her gaze fixed on their two other friends seemingly having a staring match across the table.

“He thinks he’s a mind reader and can guess what I failed at!” Isabela snorted into her drink, when Anders’ brows furrowed ever so subtly. “As if! Blondie will not guess the right colour. Never!”

Merrill looked as confused as before. “Right colour of what?”

“None, you’re not wearing any!” Anders suddenly exclaimed and Fenris, obviously taken by surprise, blushed from ear tip to ear tip. Which made Isabela almost choke on laughter.


	2. "How do I even put up with you?" (59)

“We need this!! Right now! I don’t care how much it is, I want it!”

Fenris turned with a sense of foreboding as the mage excitedly pointed at something on one market stall. When he came closer to see what Anders was so enthusiastic about, his face dropped.

“No!”

“But, it’s cute…”

“No!”

“But your hands are always cold!”

“No!”

“But… but… it would make me happy!” This was accompanied by the biggest, most ridiculous puppy eyes and miserable pout Fenris had ever seen. He let out a deep sigh.

“How do I even put up with you?”

Anders smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any guesses what Anders wants to buy? ;)


	3. "I've had enough! I want to be alone."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris has a problem with cats. Or does he?

Since they had entered the wacky building in Lowtown, that was populated by probably a dozen cats, Fenris was the only one left standing. Hawke, Merrill and Anders were all cooing and purring at the furry bunch, that eagerly spun round their feet, and meowed in varying degrees from annoying to nerve wrecking.

“Aren’t you the cutest little kitten?!” Anders leaned over a grumpy looking cat, that was decidedly ugly. But that was not the first thought that crossed Fenris’ mind. The first was. _‘The mage is adorable!’_

He flushed and fled.

“I’ve had enough! I want to be alone!”


	4. "I have a secret" (65)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“We should probably move the rotten shelf out of the kitchen and get a new cupboard. I could store my herbs and potions there. And then we’ll have to get a bigger bed. We won’t fit in there together if I’ll be here every night!” The suggestive eye brow wiggle didn’t escape Fenris. Neither did the amount of redecorations Anders was administering to his mansion. Their mansion, he corrected himself immediately.

“And of course”, Anders finished with a grin, “We need a cat!”

Fenris cringed. “Ehm, Anders”” He looked away in embarrassment. “I have a secret.”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m allergic.”


	5. "Frost the damn cupcakes" (43)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to @oldgrumpywizard and her Inquisitor <3

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Cullen frowned at the bowl in front of him. He looked like a lost puppy. And frankly, he WAS lost when it came to baking. Normally his wife shooed him out of the kitchen as soon as it came to it. But this was for their daughter’s first birthday. He wanted to help.

“I’m sure it’s fine, darling.” The Inquisitor said without looking, busy with a tray of cookies.

“But… what if it’s not right?”

“You followed my instructions, I’m sure it is!”

Cullen was still anxious.

“But…”

“Just frost the damn cupcakes, honey!”


	6. “I’m just a guy with a wife, two kids, and a Harley.” (58)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @oldgrumpywizard <3 (Cullen on a motorbike, as you wished)

When Cullen arrived, he was already late. He had to pick up his wife. But Dorian had complained, and then Varric had called, and Cassandra informed him about work, and everything had taken far too long. His family would roast him for coming late. Especially his sister who was currently babysitting for him.

A few people had looked at him curiously, giggling and whispering when he drove in on his motorbike.

“So who might you be, sweetheart?” One of them approached him.

Cullen had no inclination for small talk. “I’m just a guy with a wife, two kids, and a Harley. And there she comes!”


	7. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” (73)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @oldgrumpywizard <3  
> not what the Inquisitor would have expected

It had been a particularly long day. Her advisors had driven her mad with planning, discussions and meeting ambassadors from countries she had never heard of. Now all she wanted was a hot bath and sleep. And maybe a glass of wine. The Inquisitor was about to discard her clothes on her way to the bathtub, when she saw that someone had already done that. Various items of clothing lay everywhere on the floor. And the someone they belonged to snoring in her bed.

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed, Dorian?”

The mage startled and looked up. “Your… bed?!… Shit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, he’s drunk!  
> No, he didn’t intend to wake up in his best friend’s bed without clothes!  
> No, there is no Dorianxfem ship here! In case anyone wanted to criticize that.


	8. "I lost our child" (77)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @oldgrumpywizard <3

“I lost our child.”

When the words finally sunk in she blinked twice, unable to speak. Cullen stood in front of her, holding the huge unicorn balloon he had bought earlier for their daughter but without the girl.

“What do you mean by lost?!”

Clearly more than uncomfortable, Cullen scratched the back of his head.

“Well, one moment she was there and the next…”

At least he had the decency to blush at the glare his wife threw at him.

“You’re telling me, you can keep soldiers in check but not a five year old!”

Cullen was saved by a cheerful: “Daddy, Daddy! I found uncle Dorian!”


	9. "Who gave you that black eye?" (4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“Who gave you that black eye?”

Hawke stared in shock when the door to Varric’s room flew open and Anders and Fenris came in. Fenris fuming with rage judging by his crimson complexion and Anders following behind, grinning foolishly, sporting an impressive black eye.

“That’s a long story” Anders chuckled.

“Mage!” Fenris warned.

“Some Hightown drunks told Fenris they want to bang the pretty elf.”

Hawke frowned. “So they punched you?”

“Oh no, that was Fenris! For me telling them he was MY pretty elf and no one but me…”

Another punch was directed at Anders, but the mage escaped. Giggling.


	10. "I don't do hugs" (56)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dedicated to @Ithinkitsdashing on tumblr <3

It was one of those nights. They lay in front of the fire, huddled together for warmth and the comfort of being close to each other. Some nights, this was all they needed. Just being there. Talking. Sharing stories, maybe a bottle of wine and a close embrace. Sometimes Anders would kiss Fenris, other times Fenris played with Anders’ greying hair.

This night it was just a hug. Fenris cuddled into Anders’ arms, his face hidden at the crook of his neck.

And suddenly Anders laughed out loud.

“You know, love. I remembered a time when you said: ‘I don’t do hugs’. Look at you now.” A soft “hmpf” was all he got in reply.


	11. “Come over here and make me!” (29)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“You’re drunk!”

“Am not!”

Anders chuckled. “Oh, yes you are, love.”

This time Fenris only waved his hand, as if the gesture could dismiss Anders’ words physically. It couldn’t.

“You’re cuddly when you’re drunk.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “You’re ridicuull… ridiculous! It’s not true!”

“It is!”, Anders’ smirk went wide and he rolled onto his side, which made the blankets slip away and pile on the floor. “You love to hold me close. Have me all to yourself.”

This gained him a flush of pink and a snarl from the elf. “Stop talking nonsense, mage!”

“Come over here and make me!”


	12. "Call on line 1" (33)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First part of a double drabble (with chapter 13)  
> Warning: angst and hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“Anders! You got a call on Line 1” Without much success, Merrill tried to get Anders’ attention, who was lost in the hectic of the clinic. Night shifts were the worst. “It’s Fenris!” Anders jerked around and was on the phone immediately.

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt!” A low chuckle interrupted him. “I’m fine. I just… needed to hear your voice.”

“Where are you?”

“Classified…” Of course it was.

“And you call why?”

“As soon as I’m back from this operation, we’re getting married! And adopt kids. And you get at least two more cats.”

Anders was stunned. “Love… are you sure you’re alright?”

“I will be. I’m just sick of war and death. I miss you. And don’t want to waste another day, I could be yours!”

The lump in Anders’ throat got even bigger, while his heart grew with warmth and happiness, ready to explode.

“Anders?”

“Yes?”

“I love you!”

This was the moment, when Anders thought he couldn’t be happier, when he heard the tell-tale sound of an explosion in the background and the connection broke off without warning.


	13. "I thought you were dead!" (46)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of a double drabble (with Chapter 12)
> 
> Warning: no more angst ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

Anders stopped dead in his tracks on his way to the next patient, when he saw the man in the entrance. Heavy boots, untidy white hair, bruises all over the visible skin, still wearing his military uniform. Anders wasn’t sure if what he saw was a ghost or a living person. Yet when said person approached him with broad steps his breath hitched and the clipboard slipped out of his trembling hands.

“Fenris…” His voiceless comment got drowned in a kiss.

Time stood still.

Nothing mattered.

Anders cried. Fenris was back. With him.

He finally couldn’t keep his panic from bubbling out.

“I thought you were dead!”

Two gentle hands cupped his face, a tender smile made his heart melt.

“I promised! And I’m not leaving again!”


	14. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.” (70)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of prostitution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“Why did you have to volunteer for this?”

Fenris frowned at the cascade of gold necklaces and rings that dangled from Anders’ slender neck and arms. The sheer dark red silk revealed more than it covered. To him Anders looked naked, exposed and chained. Like a slave.

“Well, Hawke needed someone to disguise as a prostitute. I was the only one who said yes. And I know what I am doing!” To prove his point, Anders suggestively leaned forward, batting his eyelashes and brushed his hand along Fenris’ arm. The elf pushed it away instantly. “Why so grumpy, Serah? Don’t you like this outfit.”

With an angry hiss Fenris caught both Anders’ hands in his and glared at him. “I can’t stand seeing you like this.” The intensity took Anders by surprise. “You’re a free man, not… not… this!” The elf snarled and let go of the healer as if he had burned himself.

Realization dawned on Anders. He carefully approached Fenris.

“Hypothetically speaking if I would, say… wear this outfit, not here but because I like it. And I would wear it in your presence, that would change the matter entirely?”

The elf ears twitched slightly. “Entirely.”


	15. “You’re a dork, just like your father.” (74)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Hawke!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“You’re a dork, just like your father…”

“Oy, did you just call my daughter a dog! I love dogs, but that is too much, Anders!”

Hawke made an attempt to stand up to confront Anders, when Isabela pointedly stretched out her legs across Hawke’s lap, effectively barring her husband from getting of the sofa.

“Anders said, she’s a dork. Not a dog.”

“Oh… that makes sense”, Hawke chuckled lowly, “and probably true. She’s a true Hawke.” He cooed at his daughter who sat on a blanket next to the Mabari.

“We all know Hawke! Let’s hope she’s got enough Isabela to make up for it.”

“Make up for…?” For a moment, Hawke seemed to muse on it, then his eyes went wide. “Hey! Anders, are you making fun of me?”

“I would never dare to!”

Isabela simply laughed.


	16. “After everything…I’d still choose you.” (88)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“You left me here alone for three whole days. THREE DAYS, Fenris!”

Anders stretched the words on purpose to make it sound even more dramatic. “While I lay here, sneezing and coughing and freezing and practically dying, you were out, having fun with Hawke, Isabela and Varric. Frolicking through meadows probably. Or doing some shady stuff in caves!” A rather violent coughing fit stopped Anders’ feverish rant. Fenris placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Any more complaints about my failings as a partner?”

The coughing subsided. “No”, Anders said wistfully, “even after everything… I’d still choose you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was too obvious to let Fenris say this sentence, so it had to be a sick, rambling Anders


	17. “You got a cute butt.” (99)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *coughs* mage ass  
> need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the Discord "DA Weird Shit" Chat ;) especially for @ithinkitsdashing who gave me that prompt <3

The Hanged Man was packed with people. Celebrating the defeat of the Arishok. Celebrating their new Champion. Celebrating Hawke who was lost in the cheering crowd.

Anders shook his head and returned to his watered-down wine. Like anything else Corff offered it tasted terrible. But at least for this occasion Justice had allowed Anders to participate in the “mindless consumption of stimulating, half toxic substances”. 

“Ouch!”

Someone hit the floor next to Anders’ chair with a clatter of metal and some curses in Tevene. It was Fenris. The elf was far beyond drunk. Inebriated enough to even dance on top of the bar with Isabela. If Anders was supposed to be his next victim for a drunk conversation or Fenris just stumbled past him to get to Varric, was hard to tell.

“Are you alright down there?”

He couldn’t help but grin, as Fenris staggered back to his feet, apparently not as elegant as he would like. He looked more like a kitten that learned how to walk. When Fenris was upright again, his gaze still lingered at a point far below Anders’ face.

“Hey, Fenris! Are you alright?” Anders shouldn‘t worry about Fenris. The elf didn’t seem well enough for his state of intoxication. But somehow, he did.

Slowly Fenris’ focus wandered upwards and stopped when he met Anders’ eyes.

“You got a cute butt!”, he slurred and grinned foolishly.


	18. “Don’t be an asshole. Asshole.” (101)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silly banter between Anders and Fenris getting out of control. (I apologize for the no quality content)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“You’re pathetic! If I were a demon, I wouldn’t possess you if you offered ME something!”

“Now you want to possess me?! Who would have thought that? Go on phase right inside me, just be careful, I might be too big for your narrow understanding!”

“I said I wouldn’t! Keep your fantasy of dying through my hand to yourself, mage!”

Varric coughed. “I guess Blondie didn’t mean your hand, Broody!”

“Who asked you, dwarf?”

“Woah! Don’t be an asshole. Asshole! Keep Varric out of it!”

“Not when he suggests something perverse as this!”

Anders blinked in confusion. “Fenris, Varric meant killing me.”

“No I didn’t! Broody seemed to be far to fascinated by getting inside you!”

To the surprise of the whole group Fenris flushed a deep red instead of lashing out again. Anders snorted. “So you thought of killing me in a slightly different way then?”

“Shut up, Asshole!”


	19. “He’s pampering me, let him be.” (120)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“You need more tea!”, stated Fenris as a matter of fact and hurried from the room.

Varric followed the elf’s movements with a quizzically raised eye brow. “Does Fenris feel okay? He’s…” He made a fidgeting gesture with his hands.

“He’s pampering me, let him be. There is no way to stop him when he’s like this. Believe me, I’ve tried!”

“Tried what?” Fenris voice came from the door as he returned with another cup of tea. It was the sixth this morning. Anders hardly managed to finish the last.

“Fenris, it’s fine. I don’t need more attention.”

“Nonsense! You’re sick! You need to rest. And tea. And… I forgot to bring you food!” Fenris’ eyes widened in horror. “Be right back!”

Anders sighed and Varric just shook his head in disbelief.


	20. “Life is a highway, and I’m always drunk. So I’m not driving.” (109)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

The first argument arose when they were about to enter the car, Anders offered Fenris the car keys which he declined.

“Life is a highway, and I’m always drunk. So I’m not driving.”

“Wow, impressive. You’re an alcoholic and a poet. What an unusual combination!”

Fenris shrugged, got into the car and immediately put his feet on the dashboard. Anders huffed in annoyance.

“Let me get this straight. It’s an 8 hour drive to Hawke and you expect me to drive the whole way?”

“Am afraid so…”

“You realize this is a real dick move, even for you?”

“Shut up mage and drive!”

About 3 hours into their road trip, though Anders discovered that Fenris simply couldn’t drive. And after two more hours the prickly elf didn’t seem to be the worst company after all.


	21. "If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god! You’re on the couch for a month!!” (10)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @TheJourneyManInn

“If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to the Maker! You’re on the couch for a month!”

The puppy eyes that followed Anders’ outburst where unexpected and effective.

“You know I’m not used to cold winters…”

Oh Anders had been a fool in telling Fenris how much it affected him, when he did that. Huge green eyes, slight pout and that sad, vibrating tremor in his voice that made his heart melt and turned his legs into jelly. How was he supposed to resist?

“You’re a cruel man Fenris…” He muttered under his breath and turned away to hide his blush.

Then suddenly Fenris’ arms snatched him back, circling his waist, drawing him close. His voice had dropped the pretence of innocence and was but a mere, husky whisper close to Anders’ ears. It was driving him insane.

“Maybe next time, you’ll just join me… love.”

The obvious use of Anders’ usual endearment didn’t escape him, even less the hands the slid down his hips and came to a halt quite below his waist. Quite below, indeed.


	22. “My name isn’t Leslie…who’s Leslie?” (79)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“You know, Leslie, the world could be such a good place… without the pit… and…” Anders had a hard time focusing. He waved his hand through the air and concluded his sentence with: “… stuff!” The smile he threw at Merrill after this, pleased that he finished his sentence so pointedly, gained him only a confused expression.

“My name isn’t Leslie… who’s Leslie? And what is the pit?”

Instead of an answer, Anders gave her a last drunkenly happy grin, before his head sunk down onto the table. He was asleep.

“Never mind him, Merrill!” Fenris came over and pulled Anders up, one arm slung over his shoulders. “He got salty about politics and rewatched “Parks and Rec” while drinking himself senseless. Called me April all night. Be right back.” And with that he dragged his wasted boyfriend to their bedroom, while Merrill got out her phone and typed “Parks and Rec” into google

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Parks and Rec! And to be honest I would love to see/read a crossover with Dragon Age where Fenris is April. ;)


	23. “You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.” (111)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh Anders...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay!”

Fenris’ voice reached a dangerously hysterical pitch. Despite his exclamation, he held on to Anders even harder than before.

“You… you almost died!!”

“I’m sorry love…” It was barely a whisper in the crook of Fenris’ neck, yet the elf heard it.

“You’re sorry?! You... YOU ALMOST DIED!!”

If Fenris’ fury was anything to go by, maybe jumping into a dangerously swirling stream in the mountains to rescue a kitten, wasn’t one of Anders’ smartest ideas. But as soon as he heard the terrified meow and saw the tiny feline fight for her life in the whirling water, Anders didn’t allow himself the luxury of a choice. He acted on instinct. Even if that meant diving into ice cold water, risking to be crushed between rocks and waves to save a cat. A cat that was in his arms now, constrained between elf and mage, shivering and purring miserably against Anders’ chest.

“I didn’t… thanks to you…”

Fenris had pulled Anders out immediately. He held out the staff so the mage could reach it and hoisted both cat and mage out of the deadly water in one swift move.

“Venhedis! Never frighten me like that again! Not even for a cat!”


	24. “Take. It. Off.” (14)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris seems to have a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

Fenris was tense like bowstring. His whole body seemed frozen, only his eyes narrowing in disdain. His teeth were clenched together and the words he pressed through them were more akin to an angry hiss than proper language.

“Take. It. Off!”

“Take off what, love?” Anders teased sweetly. He tried to face Fenris’ with a look of mock innocence but his lips betrayed him. His mouth spread into a wide grin and he had to hide behind his hands to suppress the giggle from bursting out.

“Fenris looks so lovely! I’ll have to make more flower crowns in the future!” Merrill happily danced around the motionless elf. In his eyes, Anders saw the anger rising and he wondered when Fenris would burst. He looked like a kettle boiling over with water. Ornamented with a chain of daisies in his hair.

“Oh Anders, these are for you!” With a swift move and bouncing steps Merrill approached him next and placed a wreath of green on top of Anders’ head. Or she tried to. Anders had to bow down a little so she could reach up and adjust the flowerless crown. “There you go! It’s elfroot. Thought you might like that.”

For a brief moment, Anders thought to see some spark of amusement and anticipation wash over Fenris’ face. But if the elf expected Anders to throw a tantrum over being decorated with plants, he would be deeply disappointed. “That’s very thoughtful, Merrill! Thank you!” Anders even added a slightly wider smile than usual. The elves’ reactions couldn’t be more unlike. Merrill clapped her hands together and went off, probably to find flowers fitting for Hawke and Fenris let out a string of incoherent curses in Tevene. The only thing missing was steam coming out of his ears. Anders found it utterly adorable.


	25. “I thought it was a one-night-stand…and now we’re married…” (47)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders is drunk. A litte. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

“Can you see this? I mean… THIS!!! There is a ring… an actual, real, proper ring…”

Anders waved his hand around to show off the wedding ring, almost pushing it into Isabela’s face. His expressive gestures when talking got always a little more extravagant as soon as he was drunk. And Anders was very drunk right now.

“Yes, I see, Sweetie!”

Isabela carefully pushed back the fidgeting hand and placed it onto the table.

“You know I thought it was a one-night stand… and now we’re married…”

As if only just realizing it, Anders’ eyes doubled in size as he mustered the wedding ring on his hand.

“Fuck it… Isabela, I’m married!!”

“I know, I was there…”

“But what if I fuck this up?? What if I’m a terrible husband!!! I don’t want to get a divorce!!!”

His voice adopted a high-pitched, whining tone. And the fidgeting started again.

“Help me!”

“Help you with what?”

Fenris chose this moment to leave the dance floor and return to his husband. Husband. The world still felt foreign on his tongue. But he liked it.

“Fenris! I’m married!”

Wide-eyed helpless flailing got accompanied by the attempt to stand up and hug Fenris. Which almost resulted in Anders head first slamming onto the floor, if not for Fenris’ fast reflexes in catching him.

“I know!”

Fenris had no idea how he had ended up with this foolish, ridiculous man. Whatever it was, though, he was eternally grateful for it.


	26. “Trust me.” (90)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter from Anders to Fenris.  
> To say farewell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this contains almost solely angst and hurt! Read at own risk! I am sorry in advance!
> 
> for @ithinkitsdashing

Fenris,

I’m leaving this letter in case it happens. In case I… can no longer ignore the voices inside my head. The Calling is coming closer. It gets louder. And louder. I can hear it. Feel it. Even when I’m awake. I barely sleep. I know you are aware of this, are aware that I’ve been wandering about at night, that I’m gathering herbs at odd hours claiming it’s because of the moon. I know you can see right through me.

Although I hope not too well. I hope you didn’t expect me to leave.

This letter will find you when I’m gone and if Hawke keeps her promise she’ll deliver it herself and stay with you while you read it. Maybe she even did as I bade her and brought Aveline or Donnic. They always seemed to be capable of reasoning with you. Stopping you from doing something foolish.

Love… I… I am sorry.

I am sorry for what I am doing to you. Sorry for overruling your choice and opinion in this matter. But I could never accept your life. It’s yours. It was never mine. And I won’t accept it now.

When you said “I am yours” for the first time everything seemed to click into place and if I had died that moment, it would have been fine. At least I would have died being loved by you. Because I always knew it was not “you” that was mine. But your friendship. Your trust. Your love. Your heart. And I know I cannot give it back to you. But I hope you can claim it back yourself!

You broke free from the clutches of powerful people because you are stronger than them. I’m not powerful and you were always stronger than me. Be free again, Fenris! Be free to live without binding yourself to me. Be free to get your heart back and give it to someone that won’t break it like I did.

You have so much time ahead of you, love. So many days not yet lived. So many words not yet said. So many friends you haven’t even met yet! So many old friends that might need you. You could help Varric. You could go back to Kirkwall with Aveline and fix the mess we made. You could protect this city from harm. Or you could free the slaves in Tevinter. Just please don’t go there alone! Even though I am no longer around it would break my heart to see you hurt in any way.

My love, you should be free! And this is why I had to leave.

I’m going to a place you can’t follow. Please don’t go after me, Fenris! Hawke won’t let you. She promised me that much.

I would say “trust me”… but I probably forfeit all trust you ever had in your mage and his choices. I am truly and deeply sorry, my love! But I can’t let you come here! I can’t take you with me to this blighted place, where there is no sun, no rain, no wind, no sky. Not now that I know it will be my final home.

I spoke to our friends already. But if you ever meet the Hero of Ferelden, tell her that I am sorry.

There is not much space left on this paper and there is not much left to say. Except I love you! I love you! I love you, Fenris! And I will as long as I live!

This is a weak promise considering I might be in Orzammar already when you read this. But what little time I have left, what little of myself is still left between the calls I can’t ignore, is and always will be yours!

Farewell, my foolish elf! I am honoured you spend your freedom with me!

I love you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably no consolation, but I cried while I wrote this and still do... *leaves tissue box for anyone who might need it*


	27. “Did they hurt you?” (94)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris finds Anders being assaulted. He can't help but step in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!! implied rape and abuse, mention of past rape and abuse, non-con!  
> DO NOT READ if any of these upsets you, triggers you or makes you feel uncomfortable!!!
> 
> Seriously! Don't read this! Anders' behaviour in this is fanfic is not healthy! I don't want to upset anyone!
> 
> for @ithinkitsdashing

When Fenris went home that night, he didn’t expect to run into the mage. Anders had left a little earlier after all. But what he had expected even less, was to find the mage cornered by at least four other people. Judging by their foreign attire and heavy accent they were most likely sailors just stopping by at Kirkwall for a few days.

“What’s a mage like you doing here… pretty… but still a mage!” The bulkiest of the group slurred drunkenly, walking closer towards Anders.

Fenris intended to walk past it. Anders could defend himself. But something kept Fenris from going on. Instead of leaving he watched the strangers closing the distance between the mage and themselves. The elf expected Anders to warn them off. To cast some sort of spell and flee. Then his gaze fell onto the staff that lay neglected a few feet away.

“Kaffas!”

He couldn’t hear what was spoken afterwards, only saw Anders closing his eyes, his back pressed against the wall enduring whatever was thrown at him. Starting with the verbal attacks, leading to a hand that grabbed Anders’ arm.

This was when Fenris couldn’t watch any longer. His lyrium flared brightly and with few steps he was directly behind the biggest person, hauling them to the ground with more force than needed. “Touch him again and you’re dead!”

His appearance alone did wonders. The four darted away as soon as they laid eyes on him. Yelling and crying in fear.

“Did they hurt you?” Fenris almost shouted. Why had Anders let them get so close to him? Why hadn’t Justice done anything?

Yet Anders just flinched and cowered in on himself.

“Mage! What have they done?” For a second, Fenris considered that they had used mage bane on Anders, but that was far too rare to be used by random sailors on a random apostate. “Why didn’t you defend yourself!” Fenris couldn’t even explain to himself why it made him so furious. That was Anders’ problem! Anders was the foolish mage, that apparently liked to be assaulted on the street without fighting back! Although at this moment, the mage was nothing more than a shacking mess.

“Why did you let them do this! They could have hurt you! They could have raped you! Do you and your little pet demon care so little what happens to you?”

He knew he could have overstepped the spirits limits there, but if Justice had anything against being called a “pet demon” it didn’t show. Anders just looked away. His face was pale, even more so than usual.

“Even if so… why would you care. I don’t have to hurt them. Normally they just take what they want and leave it at that. Why would you…” A gauntleted hand grasped Anders by the collar and forced him to look up.

“Do you mean to say you LET that happen to you! On purpose? How desperate can you be to…” Fenris seldom felt as angry as in that moment. His voice rose dangerously until he saw the first tear fall from Anders’ eyes. He stopped his yelling at once.

“Yes… you’ll think it’s stupid… you won’t believe that Justice agrees with you… but… I can’t kill them… I can’t do anything… I just freeze and let them…”

Fenris couldn’t believe what he heard. Fenris didn’t want to believe.

“You… you get assaulted and just… let them?” His anger made way for confusion and then for the memory of the bottomless despair he had felt when he was at the disposal of Magisters. When he was a slave. A toy for them to push around. But Anders was no slave.

“Why?” He expected more tears from Anders but all he got was a mirthless, rough laughter.

“If you had been at the mercy of Templars for years you would know. It was either keeping still or getting hurt while they took you, telling you that you were filth that not even the Maker wanted.”

Anders turned to face Fenris. There was not even a hint of his usual sarcasm. Just bitterness and fear. Fenris still didn’t want to believe. But Anders had no reason to lie, no reason to hide his feelings. He never did that anyway. He wore his heart on his sleeve, showing his pining after Hawke just as much as his anger at Fenris. And something inside Fenris just snapped at that desperate look.

“Never. Do. That. Again! Never! How is Justice even just if he lets you do this! It’s disgusting! It’s WRONG!”

It was entirely wrong that Anders didn’t fight back. That he let others do whatever they wished to him. Fenris told himself he was just enraged because it reminded him of himself. But then there was this little voice that just couldn’t accept that one of his companions got hurt. That one of his friends went through torture as this. He couldn’t let Anders punish himself any longer!

“Fenris…”

“No! Just… Don’t! You’ll fight back! Next time you will fight back! I’ll make sure of that!” Fenris got hold of Anders’ hand and dragged him along, up the stairs towards Hightown. “Come!”

“Wha… but… the clinic is that way!” Anders’ voice seemed even more confused than before. The hint of fear didn’t escape Fenris and he instantly stopped in his tracks. “I’ll take you to the mansion. No one will assault you there tonight. But…” With this he let go of Anders’ trembling hands. “Of course, you can choose to go home. I’m not making you do anything against your will, mage. Never!” Fenris turned and fixed his gaze on Anders who met his eyes with an expression of surprise. “I’ve been told free man can choose what they do… and I guess so can apostates.” He tried to smile, knowing full well that his face wouldn’t cooperate, leaving it at a weak smirk, but it had the desired effect. The fear left Anders’ face and after a moment he returned the smile softly. Fenris didn’t take Anders’ hand again, but the mage followed him all the same as soon as he resumed the way to his mansion.

After a few steps, he heard Anders mumble something. Fenris had to strain his hearing a bit to understand him.

“Thank you…”

And Fenris smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry if you read this. That means you made it thus far and actually read that painfully personal fanfic.  
> sorry if this was upsetting. I did my best to keep you from reading! X_X


	28. “Oh, did I scare you, big boy?” (123)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to their time in Lothering, Carver has to deal with more than apostate relatives.

With snickering laughter, the young knight shoved Carver out of his way, making the younger boy stumble backwards and fall over.

“Oh, did I scare you big boy? I am so sorry.” His question rung with sarcasm, he wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

Carver just glared back at him and made an attempt to stand back up.

“Not so fast kid!” With a swift motion, the young man placed one foot on top of Carver and pushed him back into the dirt. “They say your father is an apostate? Is that true?”

The only answer he got from Carver was a low growl.

“Can’t you speak? I asked you something!” He increased the weight on his foot. “Your twin can talk. Sweet voice, nice face. Maybe I’ll have better luck with her.” The leering smile that was directed at Carver made him yell and struggle against the hold.

“Oh how cute! I definitely will go after your apostate sister. She can count herself lucky if I don’t turn her in. Templars are…”

But Carver would never know what Templars are. Before he could free himself and give this brute a piece of his opinion someone else did that for him. A small hand collided with the knight’s nose and made him stagger away from Carver.

“If you’ve got a problem with me, leave my brother alone! You coward!”

Bethany positioned herself between her brother and the knight who held his hands firmly pressed against his nose. Blood was dripping down.

“You… witch!”

“Is that the best you got?! Leave before I report this to the authorities!”

To her surprise the mail clad idiot made a run for it immediately. Seemed as if molesting other people wasn’t taken too lightly by the local noble.

“I could have done that myself…” Carver had managed to get back on his feet and looked down on his sister, colour rising to his cheeks.

“Sure… Before or after he beat you and insulted our whole family?” her scowl vanished instantly and made way for a smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t need to protect me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> having a lot of feels about the twins <3


	29. “I said get rid of it.” (60)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being on the run with Anders, Fenris suffers under an unexpected companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

Another miserable squeak made Fenris turn around. It had been hours of walking through the wilderness of Ferelden, hours without a sound apart from the tiny peeping that interrupted the silence from time to time.

“I said get rid of it!”

Anders gasped and clutched the small bundle of feathers and misery closer to his chest.

“How can you say such a thing! Mr. Featherfluff won’t go anywhere. He’s my friend now. I’ll keep him save.”

“Mr. Featherf…” Fenris couldn’t even bring himself to say the silly name Anders had come up with. “You named the bird?”

“Of course! And it’s not just ‘a bird’, love. It’s a raven.” Anders sounded as if he was lecturing an inattentive student. “And one day he’ll fly and be free again as the most majestic raven the world has ever seen.”

With a deep sigh Fenris turned towards the road again. There was no use in arguing with Anders about animals.

If an animal was helpless, Anders would keep it.

If it was malnourished, Anders would keep it.

If an animal all but looked at Anders with a hint of sadness, he would keep it.

At this thought Fenris grinned slightly. Maybe that was why Anders had made such an effort to get through to Fenris. Anders probably saw hissing and glaring at him as some kind of misguided affection. Not unlike the cats, which he so adored. And according to Merrill, Fenris was capable of doing puppy eyes. Before the amusement over this ridiculous image could turn into a chuckle Fenris thought of something else. A smug grin on his face he turned back to his mage.

“Anders. Keeping the bird means, we can’t adopt a cat as well!”


	30. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are.” (62)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders come home to the mansion after helping another group of mages to flee from the Gallows. He hopes to sneak in quietly.  
> But Fenris awaits him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

He had been away almost all night. The early summer morning was already dawning in the east, when Anders finally made it to Fenris’ mansion. He hoped the elf was asleep and didn’t wait for him. Maker, if he did, he would be drunk and very angry. They might be together but that didn’t change the fact that Fenris’ general suspicions about mages were still pretty much intact. And so was his disapproval for Anders’ mage underground.

Anders sneaked up the stairs as quietly as possible. Which wasn’t made any easier by the creaking floor boards and his heavy boots. Yet months of practice enabled Anders to skip most of the treacherous steps and he managed to reach their bedroom without a sound. Once he reached the door he realized that this was where everything would get really tricky.

The fire had burned down long ago and Anders could see Fenris’ white hair peeking out from under the blankets. He was in bed. That was good. Less arguing this night.

To make sure that the old wooden floor didn’t betray Anders, he removed his boots at the door and carefully walked towards the bed. Crossing the floor barefoot that still had some leftover glass shards here and there was not as easy for Anders as it was for Fenris. Damn elves and their perfect night vision! Anders wished he had that as well. It would keep him from constantly walking into cob webs in the tunnels beneath the Gallows. Or from hitting his head when Hawke had the marvellous idea to explore the Bone Pit again.

The mage almost made it towards the bed, when he realized the soft reflection of the light outside in Fenris’ eyes.

Oh no…

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are, mage…”

With one swift move Fenris sat up and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His height wasn’t imposing at all. But Fenris made up for it with an impressive set of different glares. One for each occasion when he was displeased with Anders. This night it was the quietly fuming kind of glare.

“I… am sorry I woke you up…”

“You didn’t wake me! I was never asleep!”

Anders gulped heavily. He was aware that Fenris disapproved of Anders’ actions with the mages. But it was new to him, that the anger about that would keep Fenris up all night.

“I was… busy”, the mage concluded and desperately hoped the floor boards would give away under him and swallow him. At least then he wouldn’t have to face Fenris. It pained him too much to see the condemnation in his eyes.

“You were busy with the mage underground I figured as much.”

If possible the glaring got even more intense. With no way to retreat other than fleeing back to his clinic, Anders had little choice but to argue for his cause. Although he was sure he would lose the discussion. He was far too tired to string together a coherent argument. At least none that would persuade Fenris who – when angry – was even less likely to give in than usual.

“I know you disapprove of my actions, but I had to help them escape. You have no idea how bad it’s going in the circle. It’s getting worse and…”

“I don’t care if you help them or not, idiot mage!” Fenris interrupted Anders mid speech and got up. With few steps, he was opposite Anders and only a moment later he wrapped his arms around the perplexed mage. “I had no idea you would be gone tonight… I… I was worried when I couldn’t find you at the clinic.”

Anders was sure he was imagining things. He could have sworn Fenris’ voice broke a little as he said that. He had been worried. Not angry. Just concerned for Anders’ safety. Anders’ staff clattered noisily down onto the floor when Anders gave in to the hug and he placed soft kisses on Fenris’ cheek.

“I’m sorry… I thought you were mad at me. I’m sorry Fenris…”

“Next time, tell me before you play hero again. I’m coming, too. I won’t let you fling yourself at dangers alone…”


	31. “And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.” (19)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris enjoys teasing Cullen a little too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @TheJourneyManInn

Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition went white as a sheet.

“You’re joking?”

Hawke, Varric and Anders started giggling, Fenris’ expression, though, remained as neutral as before. “I beg your pardon, did I sound like I was kidding? When I said the mage and I did it on the war table, I meant exactly that. The mage” He needlessly pointed at Anders who did his best not to fall over by holding onto Varric’s shoulder, wheezing like a broken kettle. “And I” Fenris continues to point at himself. “Did it”, followed by an obscene gesture. “On the war table. You know. Table, that big wooden thing you use to do important stuff on. I used it to do important stuff as well.”

The neutral face slipped a little and made way for an exceedingly smug grin.

“Was that clear enough for you?”

Cullen opened his mouth once to say something and failed, a second time to let out a gurgling noise and afterwards stormed off, muttering to himself, his face turning the shade of his cloak.

“And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations, Broody!”


	32. “Why did we have to have kids?” (32)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

It was the middle of the night, when the first cry erupted from the cradle next to their bed. Anders groaned and turned towards the noise.

“Why did we have to have kids?”

Next to him he felt Fenris move. Instead of getting out of bed though, the elf tucked at Anders’ share of the blanket and covered himself with it.

“It’s not ours. You had to offer babysitting to Aveline and Donnic!”

“They are your friends! I was just being nice!”

Despite his protest, Anders got up to see what was wrong with the wailing infant, but couldn’t resist to swiftly pull at the blanket first and unwrap Fenris in one swift move.

“Stop that!”

“Next time it’s your turn.” Anders said with a smile and scooped up the small human from the cradle.

The only response to this from Fenris was a soft huff before he disappeared under his pillow. The mage carefully held the small child in his arms. “Be careful not to turn out like, Uncle Fenris when you grow up. Scowling will make you age faster and you’ll have wrinkles all over your face.” Anders cooed sweetly at the child that instantly stopped crying as soon as it was no longer alone. It snuggled contently into Anders’ embrace and shortly was fast asleep again. With a sigh, Anders turned towards the bed and slid back under the blanket, the infant on top of him, small hands firmly closed around Anders’ tunic.

From next to him Anders heard a muffled sound and suddenly Fenris appeared again, his hair a complete mess. Anders couldn’t look at him directly with the child cuddling into him, but he would have sworn that there was a soft smile on Fenris’ lips. A dark, lyrium-lined hand appeared from somewhere under the blanket and gently stroked over the sleeping infant a few times before it came to a rest on top of Anders’, entwining their fingers.

“Mage?” Fenris whispered somewhere close to his ear. “Why exactly don’t we have kids?”


	33. “You didn’t just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘in the mood’.” (93)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares (angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

There was a point when Fenris could no longer ignore the insistent poking into his side. Judging by the darkness and how tired he still felt, it must have been fairly early in the night. With a low groan, he turned his head to face Anders.

“You didn’t just wake me up in the middle of the night because you were ‘in the mood’.”

Yet even as the last word was out, Fenris knew this wasn’t true. Anders’ eyes were wide open, his mouth pressed shut into a thin quivering line. The elf was instantly awake.

“What is wrong?”

At first Anders only shook his head, his hands curled up into fists and he gulped visibly. Then he edged closer and brought one hand up to Fenris’ face. The silence bothered Fenris. Normally there was no time, Anders was short on words.

“Anders?”

Still no answer. 

Fenris felt how Anders’ hand softly cupped his cheeks. One finger followed the line of his jaw, his cheekbones, traced his eyebrows and lightly brushed down his nose as if to memorize Fenris’ face in every way possible. The elf was about to question Anders again, when he saw the line of tears running down the other’s cheeks. Wordlessly, Fenris reached out to brush the tears away but Anders caught the hand in his and placed a tender kiss on it.

The mage let out a shaking breath and finally spoke.

“I love you…”

The words were out in a hurry. Fragile, raw, honest and only slightly above a whisper.

Fenris couldn’t endure it. In one swift move, he pulled Anders into his arms.

“Another nightmare?”

This time Anders reacted immediately with a curt nod, while he clung to Fenris, his hands promptly clasping Fenris’ shoulders, the fingernails almost digging into the skin. Yet Fenris said nothing. The dreams came more often as the years passed. Sometimes leaving Anders in a transfixed state, too shocked too move. Sometimes Fenris had to wake him up because he was thrashing about and screaming wildly. Sometimes Anders woke up from crying. This was the first time Fenris had felt no indication of the dream. No rapid movements beside him. Not a sound or wail. Nothing.

“You were there… pulling me away from the abyss… I could hear them screaming. All around me. You were there. Trying to stand between me and the void… And then they got you… they killed you!”

At this revelation, Anders looked up. Panic clearly visible in his eyes. “Never do that! Promise me to get away… promise me to save yourself… I can’t stand the thought of losing you!”

For a moment, Fenris felt as if Anders’ words echoed through his head leaving him stunned. Then his lips cracked into a grim smile.

“Mage… for as long as I live I’ll be with you… But I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever. I cannot give you that promise…”

Fenris reached out and wrapped a strand of Anders’ loose hair around his fingers. “…for I love you, too!”


	34. “Quit stalling. Where’s your father?” (110)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris' and Anders' daughter is every bit as cunning as her parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @Thinkfirst :) I hope you like it

The knock on the door was curt and loud. Showing a considerable degree of impatience. Allissa was not afraid to open though. She had instructions what to do and what to say and if all else failed, Isabela was in ear shot, hidden just under the roof of the small house.

With few quick steps the girl was at the door and pressed the handle to open it. The Templar that had been about to knock again stumbled a few steps forward into the room. Obviously startled to see no one on his eye level that could have opened the door he let his gaze wander through the room until it met the young girl. He removed his helmet, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I was led to believe that a dangerous apostate was hiding out in the woods. Not. Children.”

“It’s not children. Just child. I am alone. What can I do for you, Ser?”

Allissa accompanied her words with an innocent smile. Otherwise they would have probably seemed a lot more impolite. The Templar turned around, inspecting the room with a scrutinizing glare.

“Can you tell me who lives here.”

“I do.”

“Yes but who else?”

“My cat.”

“Any other people.”

“Oh you mean people. Well, right now just me and the cat.”

“And normally? You can’t tell me you’re always alone.”

“I am alone now. Except for you of course.”

The Templar rolled his eyes. He was beginning to lose what little patience he had.

“Do you live with your mother and father.”

“No.”

“Other relatives?”

“No.”

The Templar paced through the room, no doubt examining the meagre possessions for any sign of other inhabitants. And magic of course. But other than the usual pots and dishes and tools everyone needed for their daily lives, there was nothing to be found. No strange artefacts. No staff. No vials of suspicious content. There were a little many bundles of herbs. But living in the woods surely made alternative means of food supplies necessary.

“Who do you live with then?”

The Templar’s voice, relatively calm up until this point was beginning to crack.

“My parents.”

“You just said…” the man let out a deep growl and clenched his teeth in frustration.

“Can I speak to them?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I don’t know if they will speak to you.”

Allissa idly played with one of her braids and offered another innocent grin.

“Why won’t they speak with me?”

“They are not here, they can’t speak if they are not here, can’t they?”

The girl’s answer was in no way satisfying for the Templar. And he finally lost his composure.

“Damn girl. Quit stalling! Where is your father?”

Allissa smiled another wide smile before she answered the enquiry with yet another question in return.

“Which one?”

This made the Templar flip completely. He grumbled something about crazy children living in the forest and stamped off again. There had been no indication for apostate activity anyway and he just wasted his time with the sassy, little brat.

“Daddy says cursing is inappropriate when children are around!”, Allissa yelled after him before she closed the door. With a soft ruffle of fabric Isabela jumped down from her hiding place. She could barely suppress a giggle.

“Oh honey, Anders and Fenris are such a bad influence on you!” The pirate bend down and placed an affectionate kiss on the girl’s forehead. “Is that your usual tactic to get rid of Templars?” Allissa nodded with a smile. “I used to play sick and paint myself with blue ink. But daddy didn’t like that.”

Isabela could hardly wonder why.


	35. “You can’t make up for it by giving me a tic-tac.” (105)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris keeps interupting Anders' job interviews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing ;)

“Are you insane?!”

Anders had managed to suppress the boiling anger and keep it back until they left the building. Fenris followed him, strolling lazily behind him. He seemed perfectly indifferent to Anders’ fury.

“Judging by your rhetorical question, I am”, he said nonchalantly and rummaged through his pockets, obviously searching for something. He smiled faintly when he found what he was looking for and pulled out a box of tic-tacs’.

“You can’t accompany to every single job interview, faking support and then ruining everything with naming all of my faults. They are never going to hire me!”

The enraged doctor flung his arms around in wild circles.

“Someone has to pay the bills and the rent. I will never have the money to open up my own practice if I don’t get a job. No matter what job.”

“It’s a cleaning firm.”

“It’s a job. Payed with money! I can’t rely on you or anyone! This is my life, my job, my money! I can’t keep failing! I have to start saving if I want to achieve anything within my life. And stop waving that box in front of my face. You can’t make up for it by giving me a tic-tac!”

“Anders…”

“Don’t ‘Anders’ me you…”

With a dry laughter, Anders turned round, finally focusing on the little box in Fenris’ hand, only to choke on his chuckle and stare.

Instead of tic-tacs the box held a very shiny and very none-eatable ring.

“Anders… you shouldn’t work underpaid jobs waiting to be a doctor. You should be one now! I won’t let you postpone or throw away your dream because of money issues. I know you won’t accept money from a friend. So what about money from your partner in life?”

Fenris gently placed the box with the ring into Anders’ palm.

“That is if you’ll have me?”

A smug grin was plastered on Fenris’ face while Anders’ eyes went wide then teary and he eventually let out a tiny happy squeal.

All anger was entirely forgotten.


	36. “I lost our child!” (77)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris wakes because of a sudden noise at night. And finds the mage not in their bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anonymous on tumblr: 77 with Fenders please (ABO w/ omega Anders would be great!!)
> 
> angst!

Fenris woke with a start when he heard a crashing sound from downstairs. Immediately awake he spun around to wake Anders only to find the other half of the bed empty. A small wave of fear washed over Fenris and he got up. It took him only a few swift steps to get to his sword and only few more to move down the treacherous staircase without a sound.

Another crash came from the kitchen, as if something breaking apart followed by a muffled curse. Fenris didn’t recognize the language, but he knew the voice.

Anders.

The tension fell from his shoulders. So at least there were no intruders in their home. He leaned the great sword against the wall before entering the dark room. No use in alarming Anders as well.

Anders stood hunched over the wash basin, scrubbing plates, still muttering something in that language Fenris didn’t understand. It was completely dark, not a single candle lit to help the mage see what he was actually doing. For Fenris it was of little importance whether there was light or not, he was an elf and didn’t necessarily need artificial lighting. But Anders did. And cleaning normally required a certain amount of light.

For a moment Fenris lingered in the door frame. He was not sure if sneaking up on Anders or addressing him first, were the preferred course of action. The mage startled easily these days. Turning towards unfamiliar noises like a skittish cat. Always on the brink of running away. So Fenris opted for the safest route and cleared his throat.

The plate in Anders’s hands slid from his grasp and sunk into the water, as the mage turned around, alarmed and ready to cast a spell. His eyes were blown wide, searching the dark room for the source of the sound until he met Fenris. Instead of relaxing, Anders seemed to tense up even more. And without a word, he returned his focus on furiously cleaning the dishes.

This kind of behaviour seemed odd, even for Anders. Fenris frowned and moved towards him, still keeping a wary distance. Something had upset his mage, and before he knew what it was Fenris felt safer to give him some space.

“Why aren’t you in bed?”

It was a simple question, yet Fenris saw how Anders flinched slightly.

“I was.”

The answer was short, pressed out through clenched teeth and thereby revealed what Fenris had suspected. Anders was crying. His voice shaking audibly. Up close Fenris saw the shimmering traces of tears on Anders’ face, saw how he bit his lower lips to keep the sobbing from bursting out. With growing worry, Fenris realized how much Anders’ hands were shaking. Which explained the two broken plates that lay in pieces next o Anders’ feet. The mage was barefoot, standing in the middle of his own wreckage. Fenris was sure that he must have stepped into at least one shard. Which would have cursed the unusual swearing in Ander.

“Anders, what is wrong?” Contemplating whether or not to reach out and comfort him, Fenris decided against it. He was afraid his touch might not be welcome.

“Nothing. I am fine. The dishes were dirty. Someone has to clean this mess.”

The frown on Fenris’ face deepened at Anders’ words. They were frantic and too chipper, and a blatant lie.

“This mess could have waited till morning.”

“Could not. I’ll have to go to the clinic soon. You’ll be away with Hawke. No time for cleaning. So I’m doing it now.”

The mage talked fast. Faster even than usual. As if in a hurry to get out the words before a shaking breath or sudden well of tears could interrupt him.

Everything about his demeanour was fake. His cheerful tone, his casual smile. Anders tried to keep up the appearance of happiness when all Fenris could see was someone breaking. No, not someone. His mage was breaking on the inside and he couldn’t endure it a moment longer.

Fenris moved slowly but with determination. He stepped next to Anders and reached for his hands. With ease, he coaxed the dripping plate from his fingers, placed it back on the table and took both of the mages hands in his.

“What happened?”

With the first touch, Anders’ façade dropped and tears sprung freely from his eyes. Fenris barely had the time to blink before he found himself with an armful of mage clinging to his neck, sobbing noisily somewhere in the crook of his neck. Anders’ almost clawed into Fenris’ back, his whole body shaking with the force of his crying.

There was little Fenris could do. So, he just slung his arms around Anders, gently brushing through his hair, waiting. For a long moment, they simply stood there, Anders holding on to him, Fenris trying to give him the support he needed.

Finally, the sobbing made way for few sharp intakes of breath until even these stopped and Anders was breathing evenly again. Fenris thought for a moment, that Anders had fallen asleep, but then he heard the soft, broken whisper close to his ear and his heart froze.

“I lost our child.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, this has nothing to do with a real pregnancy, or a real child, but is "just" another of Anders’ nightmares and Fenris reacts so strongly because he knows how much Anders would love to have children. But for the sake of the prompt I stopped it there. I really hope this okay anon, even if my headcanon for the story goes a different route ;)


	37. “I’m pregnant.” (12)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> genderfluid Fenris. I hope I did this right regarding pronouns. if there is feedback or critique please send a message but be polite! Thank you!
> 
> for @tearsofwinter

Anders had been staring at them all morning. Even before Fenris had opted for a dress instead of trousers and started searching for the necklace they always chose to wear when they felt more to their female side, Anders had followed their movements with his eyes. Silent judgment visible. Fenris knew it was not because of their changing wardrobe. They had been together long enough that Anders was aware Fenris didn’t feel like constricting themself to any gender. In fact, the mage had played a huge part in making Fenris feel comfortable to no longer hide this part of themself away from anyone.

So why Anders was so suspiciously observant this morning, was not immediately apparent to Fenris.

When Fenris sat down in front of the poor excuse of a mirror to fix their mess of hair and maybe even add a little braid, Anders followed, standing silently behind them, his eyes trailing up and down Fenris’ lean frame. With a huff Fenris tried to ignore this and intended to focus on their battle against their hair. This attempt was interrupted again, when Fenris felt Anders’ gaze linger longer than normally on their breasts, which were not hidden under a metal breastplate but hugged tightly by the soft fabric of the dress. As Anders’ brows furrowed in confusion, Fenris finally lost their patience.

“What is it, mage?”

Anders’ gaze immediately snapped up, to meet Fenris’ in the mirror. For a moment Fenris expected the usual “It’s nothing!” that Anders typically used to deflect questions. But this time Anders seemed too struck to deflect anything. He swallowed thickly, summoned a wave of magic that Fenris felt wash over and through their body and looked back at Fenris with an expression of utter bewilderment.

“You… you’re pregnant…”

Lazily Fenris blinked. What had the mage just said?

“I’m pregnant?”

It made no sense. How could they be pregnant. They had the contraceptive potion from Anders that…. Fenris was about to snarl and say something along the lines of “You have to be wrong” when they remembered taking the potion the last time. Which had not been in the last months. A small “Oh” escaped them and Anders’ mouth fell open.

“Haven’t you been taking the contraceptives I gave you?”

Anders was gaping, his hands flitting back and forth between Fenris’ shoulders and flying through the air.

“I might have forgotten!”

Fenris admitted, their voice trailing off as they pressed two hands onto their abdomen. Nothing felt different. But Anders, being a spirit healer, must have sensed and seen something, that Fenris didn’t. They looked up and turned towards Anders who was walking up and down. His arms flailing, ruffling through his hair, until he came to a halt and looked back at Fenris with wide eyes.

“Forgotten?! Maker, you’re pregnant…”

A serenade of chuckles and mumbled nothings escaped his lips before he froze. His golden eyes widened even more before he faced his love again. Anders’ mouth twitched slightly and one hand clutched his forehead.

“You’re pregnant! ANDRASTE’S TITS! YOU’RE PREGNANT FROM ME!!!”

A disbelieving laughter bubbled from him and soon reached Fenris and made them smile.

“It seems so.”

Their own lips curled up into a smile seeing the childlike joy in their lover’s eyes, how he immediately knelt down, gently placed his hands over theirs and let another magical examination roll over Fenris’ body. What he found, only made his eyes shine brighter.

So they were pregnant. Oddly enough, Fenris felt unexpectedly content. On the run, they had never let themself allow the thought of even considering to have children. The early years in Kirkwall certainly hadn’t changed that. When Anders had offered the potion, it had been to ease Fenris’ discomfort with their own body at the time. Afterwards it had become a habit to take the potion once they were together with the mage. Neither Anders nor Fenris had ever addressed the topic, but they surely both had felt the dangers of bringing up Anders’ child in the City of Chains.

Yet they were no longer in Kirkwall. Due to Varric’s scheming and help from their other friends, the Templars were no longer after them. Their life was theirs. And so far, forgetting to take the potion seemed one of the best mistakes Fenris had ever made.

Fenris gently squeezed the mage’s hands and entangled their fingers.

“You’ll be a father after all…”


	38. “Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.” (128)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders wants the best for Fenris... and that doesn't necessarily include him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "take your broken heart and turn it into art" never more fitting (angst, hurt)
> 
> for @ithinkitsdashing

He couldn’t remember when he had last left the Hanged Man in such a hurry. He knew it must have been a while and certainly not since he and Fenris… Anders swallowed another wave of tears and marched forward with a little more determination. It was a miracle that he could keep himself steady at all, let alone move at such speed.

His clinic was only a short distance away when he heard soft but swift footsteps behind him. Anders took the last meters in a run and slammed the door shut with as much force as he could muster. He just managed to lock it, when Justice stirred in his mind, drawn out by the sudden, overpowering rush of lyrium and Anders knew what Fenris would do. For a second he lingered, even contemplating to keep the elf frozen in place with a stasis glyph. But then he decided against it. Fenris’ lyrium markings that allowed him to phase through Anders’ door would enable him to break through the glyph almost as easily. Anders wouldn’t win much time so he simply turned on his heels and made way for his “bedroom”, namely the small side chamber to his clinic that contained his bed. Without further ado and little elegance, Anders slumped down into the worn-down pillow and for the first time in weeks the tears started falling freely. His stuttered sobbing was muffled by the pillow.

Of course, he heard the elf’s footsteps. Of course, he felt the lyrium coming closer. Of course, he heard it when Fenris opened the creaking door and entered the room. And of course, he heard the cautious question.

“Mage… are you alright?”

But he ignored it all.

He had left the Hanged Man without a word, so he was certainly not going to speak up now. The scene, still so fresh in his mind, the anger and jealousy and fear welled up inside of him again. All of them sitting in Varric’s suite. As usual. All of them except him, getting drunk. As usual. Hawke loudly flirting with everyone. As usual. Fenris suddenly smiling at the obvious innuendo, turning towards Hawke, responding to it, his eyes still lit with amusement and that hint of pleasure.

It had been too much for Anders. Too much to see Hawke turn their drunken attentions towards his lover. Too much to feel so strangely separated from his friends. Too much to see Fenris’ reaction, the smile that reached his eyes, the ease with which he held himself in conversation with Hawke. It was too much when he compared it to the tension that Fenris still showed when he was with him. The elf was always alert, always ready to react should Anders show any signs of possession. Or rather lose himself in a struggle with Justice. Except, there was no struggle. Not anymore. A blissful calm had settled inside Anders’ mind as soon as Fenris had accepted his advances and his ill-advised courting. But Fenris still watched him with care and suspicion. And every time Anders caught that look on the elf’s face, his heart broke a little more.

Suddenly there was a hand on Anders’ shoulder and Anders turned and shrugged it off instantly.

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting!”

Fenris’ retreated as if he had burned himself.

“We’re… what?”

Anders saw the confusion in Fenris’ eyes, saw that he had hurt him with his reaction. But there was no other way. No other way to free Fenris from himself and give him a chance to be happy. Finally. Without him.

“Go back to Hawke!”

The words flew out even more harshly than Anders intended. But it was all the same now. If he was going to hurt the elf, to secure his smile in the long run, it was worth it.

The elf raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“What?”

“Go. Back. To. Hawke!” Anders repeated, putting emphasis on every word while he tried to swallow his tears and crying long enough to get the elf to disappear.

“What if I don’t want to go back to Hawke?”

“Yes, you do!” You want to be among friends and people you feel comfortable about. Not me.

“I don’t!” You only fancy yourself in love with me. I’m just another mage. Another mage you feel the need to protect. You’re only doing this because you’re conditioned to it. Not for me.

“You want to be with people. Friends. Not an abomination. Leave!” You deserve so much better. You deserve to smile like you did tonight on every single day of your life. You deserve to be free, not tied down by an apostate without future. You deserve to be happy, Fenris. Happy and content and loved. Not by me.

“What are you even talking about?” There was barely hidden anger in Fenris’ voice. Anger was good. Better than sadness. Anders could deal with anger, could react to it in the same fashion. Sadness would have broken his resolve. Because he could not see Fenris sad. Not even for a moment.

“Go back and enjoy yourself! Stop playing bodyguard for a mage. You’ve done that long enough.” His words were chosen with intent. And they did not fail to make something snap behind Fenris’ eyes.

“Mage…”

There was a tentative step towards him, the hint of Fenris reaching out again. But Anders knew if he would allow this, if he allowed Fenris’ touch, allowed him to take away the fear and anger and pain, he could not let him go.

Anders withdrew further away from the elf. His voice was still shaking. But he just couldn’t be selfish enough to keep Fenris with him. He couldn’t.

“Just leave!”

And Fenris did.

For a second he halted in the door frame, his hand twitching slightly, his shoulder suddenly holding even more tension then before. Then the moment was gone and Fenris moved away. Out of the clinic. And probably out of Anders’ life.

And Anders cried.


	39. “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?” (148)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another night at Fenris mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for an anon on tumblr

Something soft and wet brushed against Anders’ stubble and he was immediately wide awake. In his surprise, he shot up so rapidly his head collided with something decidedly less solid and he heard a muffled sound of pain.

“Fenris?”

Anders had trouble seeing properly. The moonlight was not strong enough this night and left them in utter darkness. So, he conjured a mage light that danced happily over his outstretched palm and filled the space with a faint blue glow.

Next to him Fenris stat upright as well, pressing his hands firmly against his nose. His eyes were narrowed due to the sudden influx of light. Blinking against the brightness himself, it took Anders a second to realize that there was blood seeping through Fenris’ fingers.

“Maker, you’re hurt! Let me…!”

Fenris simply groaned.

“Yes, I am hurt. Crashed with an idiot…” Despite his angry reply, Fenris lowered his hands so Anders could examine the damage. The nose wasn’t broken. But it wasn’t far from it. Anders bit his lower lip. That was a new level of clumsiness, breaking his lover’s nose in sleep.

“What were you doing anyway?”

While Anders’ hands were busy pouring healing magic into Fenris to stop the bleeding, he eyed the elf with confusion. He expected a dead pan explanation. As always. But instead there was suddenly a hint of embarrassment in Fenris’ eyes and the faint tint of a blush on his cheeks. And because Anders still firmly held onto his face to treat the nose, Fenris couldn’t avert his gaze and hide in the pillows as he normally would. He looked at a point past Anders’ face and mumbled something unintelligible instead and flushed a shade darker.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Anders let his hands sink down which allowed him an even better view on the bright red cheeks and the raw emotion in Fenris’ eyes. But only for a fleeting moment, before that look turned away from him and Fenris hissed: “I said, I kissed you…”

The unwilling admittance made Anders grin. 

“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”

His curiosity was not sated at all. Yet to give Fenris some time to choose whether or not to answer that question, Anders stood up from the bed and went over to the small basin filled with water, grabbed one of the bandages that always lay there and returned to Fenris’ side wipe away the blood from his face and hands.

“I’m not…” The elf tried to keep still, while Anders gently rubbed off the blood. “I am not ONLY kissing you when you’re asleep!” Indignation and embarrassment welled up again.

“So why this time?”

He didn’t even know why he kept on pressing Fenris like that. It was not unusual to wake up to Fenris placing a kiss on his cheek or nose or forehead. But… usually that happened in the morning. When they had to get up anyway. Not in the middle of the night. Curiously enough, Fenris seemed to colour even more deeply and once Anders was done with removing the blood, he looked away again.

“You’re talking in your sleep, mage.”

Fenris played with the fray ends of the blanket and Anders wondered what he might have said that prompted Fenris to kiss him out of the blue.

“Oh… am I…? And what was I talking about”

The more Anders asked, the more uncomfortable Fenris got.

Feelings.

Talking about feelings was still something they both had to adjust to. But while Anders had an easier time to admit to them, and express what he felt, and relished in the fact that no Templar would ever dictate his emotions again, Fenris had it worse. He struggled a lot more. Not only with his own feelings but also with being confronted with feelings from others. Especially from Anders. Which was a little inconvenient at times, considering their current relationship.

Without looking over, Fenris’ hand found Anders’ and instantly locked their fingers together in a gentle yet strong hold. And Anders waited. It had taken him a while and countless situations where he wished he had kept silent, before he had realized that Fenris sometimes just needed a bit more time to find the words to express himself.

“You…”, Fenris began and cleared his throat. He sounded hoarse, as if voicing what Anders had said took all the resolve he had. “You were talking with Danarius…”

Anders’ eyes doubled in size. Yet Fenris of course, facing the opposite wall, couldn’t see. So, the mage simply squeezed the elf’s hand a little harder. He couldn’t exactly remember his dream. Only the unexpected kiss that woke him from it.

“We were back in the Hanged Man I guess. You shouted that he would never have me and…”

The suspense was killing Anders. And despite all his best efforts he hadn’t yet mastered to restrain his curiosity.

“And?”

Fenris lifted his gaze from their interlaced fingers to Anders’ face. Emotion ranging from pain, to happiness and love raw and openly visible on his face.

“You said, you’ll always stand by my side…”


	40. “Quit touching me. Your feet are cold.” (49)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rain and cold elves are a good recipe to wind up a mage. Especailly when said mage ends up in the same tent as the elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @tearsofwinter  
> thank you for prompting me <3

Anders didn’t know what was the most unfortunate part about this latest adventure with Hawke. The rain that had started once they had set a foot outside of Kirkwall and hadn’t stopped since. The blood mages that made his mood get fouler by the minute and Justice yell incessantly for hours. Or the fact that he had to share a tent with the elf.

Fenris. 

He had thought Fenris could not be any more broody than usual. But rain and blood magic and probably his presence seemed to made Fenris’ mood drop to a new low.

But then the worst happened. Anders was half way reconciled with the fact that he was stuck inside a tiny tent with his “favourite” prickly elf. Tenting on the Wounded Coast was always such fun, even without a grumpy companion to be begin with. But in this weather, it was even more pleasant.  
Shoving down one’s meagre and cold meal sitting on a bedroll, wet clothes stashed away at the other side of the tent in an effort to NOT get everything wet with an elf that didn’t care where his wet footsteps left damp marks on blankets was even better. But somehow the Maker chose that this was not enough misery for one evening – for it wasn’t even night yet, the weather had simply been too bad to linger outside for longer – and only a few minutes after Fenris and Anders had settled onto their respective bed rolls, unable to fill the awkward silence, the mage felt cold feet making their way under his blanket.

He huffed in surprise, raised a questioning eyebrow at Fenris and hoped the elf would see it in the dim light of dusk. And without a word he gave Fenris’ feet a determined push. They were outside the blanket again, shoved away from the warmth that they seemed to need. Fenris hissed in response, pulled them back under his own blanket and turned around.

Anders thought that was that. No more ice-cold elf feet pressed between his shins.

Although it took less than a few minutes during which Anders had turned his face away from Fenris’ sulking form, before he felt the cold intruders again.

This time he couldn’t hold back from a surprised snarl.

“Quit touching me. Your feet are cold.”

“I am aware.”

As usual, Anders hadn’t expected the deadpan answer from Fenris and simply blinked at the elf over his shoulder. Well he tried to glare as well but all he could muster was a lazy eye roll.

If he had thought that it would suffice to make the elf recede to his own bed roll, Anders was disappointed.

Instead of the freezing appendages drawing back, an equally cold arm followed that sneaked around Anders* waist and pulled a decidedly not warm elf flush against Anders’ back.

“Hey!!!”

Anders’ indignant yell was silenced by another tuck of arms and Fenris’ legs curling around his own.

“You’re warm mage!”

“You’re cold!”

“I know!”

“Get off me!”

What was the insufferable elf thinking? Was this some kind of physical reconciliation or did he simply plan to use Anders as a source of heating. With a grim smile, Anders thought he could comply at least the need of getting the elf’s temperature up. He wondered anyway why he insisted on walking bare foot through weather like that. It was a miracle Fenris wasn’t sick more often anyway. Although… on second thought, Fenris probably was sick more often than Anders would know. Fenris only ever showed up at Anders clinic when Hawke dragged him there. Unconscious. Almost dead. Never willingly or on his own accord.

Without a warning, Anders conjured the faintest hint of a fire spell he was capable off and placed his hand on top of Fenris’ arms. At first there was no reaction, not even a flinch away from the touch. Then suddenly when the spell took up a little more force, Fenris’ brands flared and he snarled somewhere at the nape of Anders’ neck: “That’s too warm you damn fool of a mage!”

“Then let go! I never invited you into my arms anyway!”

“It’s cold!” Fenris said in a tone that seemed to end the debate. Yet Anders was far from giving in. First the grumpy warrior had the audacity to simply sneak up on him, unbidden. Then he complained that he was cold while still holding onto the mage and THEN he was against Anders’ efforts to get them both warm. No! Enough was enough. Acting against his instincts as a healer, to turn someone away who was probably actually freezing, Anders turned over until he faced the elf – which was quite a task in itself against the tight grip around his torso – and tried to shove Fenris away.

“Get. Off. Me! If you insist on being a prick! Fine! Freeze on your own bed roll!”

It was a mess of arms and hands and Fenris glaring at him. But Fenris did not let go and Anders, though not weak himself, definitely lacked the strength to free himself from the warrior. If anything, Anders’ struggle made Fenris tighten his hold around the mage’s chest and hips.

Hips? Anders registered with a confused frown that Fenris was now slung around him in a way that would seem perfectly suggestive to anyone peeking into the tent. In a last attempt to get some personal space, warmth and dignity back, Anders inhaled deeply to yell at Fenris again, but a voice from the tent next to them anticipated him quite loudly.

“If you’re not going to shut up and cuddle Broody now, Bianca and I will come over and shoot you both!”

Anders deflated, instead of anger a blush rose to his cheeks and he resigned himself to his fate for the night. At least being deemed useful enough to be a human bed flask was better than being called a useless abomination.

Fenris seemed to chuckle slightly at Varric’s outburst and without another word snuggled closer against Anders’ chest. The elf’s face now rested somewhere underneath Anders’ chin and he could feel the slow breaths of the elf ghost over his skin. Anders would have much rather eaten his manifesto than say it out loud but… if he wasn’t completely mistaken and in delirium, of which he was fairly certain he was not, he would have said that Fenris’ embrace was… quite tender.


	41. "He’s pampering me, let him be." (120)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xears after Kirkwall and the Inquisition, Isabela pays her favourite couple a visit.  
> Only to realize that she came just in time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @Dirty_Corza  
> you prompted angst, I hope I can deliver

Isabela watched as Anders rushed from his desk and bubbling cauldron to Fenris and back. Well, not so much rushed but went as fast as his body would allow. The pain in his hips got worse with every Winter and he had assured her multiple times that no amount of healing magic could fix this.

“I’m simply getting old, Bela!”

Fenris sat in the big armchair by the fire. He was pale. Even more so than on her last visit. The fading lyrium lines barely stood out against his skin any more. The year before, Isabela had brushed the thought away and said that it was simply the bad weather that kept Fenris inside and had nothing to do with the lyrium silently but steady diffusing from the clear cut lines and seeping into Fenris’ skin. She had told herself off. More than once. Anders would have told her, if that was the case. Anders would have told her if Fenris was seriously ill. Or wouldn’t he?

She looked over and saw the mage grind some ingredients in the mortar. Silver grey strands falling into his face with every move. He simply shrugged them away and went on with his task. Only then, with his back turned to Fenris and herself, Isabela realized how tired Anders looked. Tired and worn down. The lines on his face still held traces of laughter. But when one looked closer worry painted across his forehead. It was like a hidden message, plastered over by soft smiles and heartfelt chuckles.

Involuntarily, Isabela sighed.

“Now that is new.” Fenris turned towards her and his lips twitched into a lopsided grin. “You are worried. Or bored. Are two old men too much for a pirate?”

A soft cough disrupted Fenris’ grin and he flinched as if in pain, before his expression relaxed again.

This was definitely not just a slight cold! Anders had told her that the year before. And the year before that. Okay well, it might have been a cold back then. But since that time, Fenris had retreated more and more. The lyrium disappearing alongside his health. Isabela knew too little of magic and lyrium and blood rituals in Tevinter. But even she realized that none of this was good. Whatever it was. Yet Fenris still acted as if it was nothing. And Anders repeated that he just needed to tend to Fenris’ fever. And then the coughing. And maybe make a balm for his skin. The lyrium, according to Anders, merely seemed a little odd these days. But among all the healer’s babbling and medical nonsense not once did Anders admit how bad it really was.

Isabela had had her fair share of poison. She knew how it looked, she knew how it felt and Fenris was definitely beyond the stage where other healers would have long given up on the antidote.

Fenris was dying. Probably from the lyrium that this Tevinter scum had forced into his body years ago.

But it was not time for that! Not yet!

He had promised her to accompany her to Antiva! They wanted to kill some slavers, drink wine and make Blondie blush in embarrassment at their behaviour.

Now she had a feeling that Fenris wouldn’t even make it to the wedding of Aveline’s daughter the following spring. She would probably have to celebrate without her godfather. The thought alone made Isabela fume with anger.

Because she could do nothing to prevent it. Anders was already trying his best. And if he couldn’t find a way to heal his elf, no one would.

“This is wrong!”, she finally said and fixed her gaze on Fenris. “All of this. You should be having fun! Kill our enemies! Shag your mage senseless! Not…”, her hand pointed in the general direction of the elf, “this…”

Fenris just gave her a sad knowing look.

“His mage is keeping him exactly where he is! Killing… Do you know what a fight would do to…” Anders had returned from his work and brought along a cup full of steaming content. It smelled terrible. Fenris scrunched up his nose, though he accepted the cup without protest. The mage let himself sink down on the bench next to Isabela for a second. His eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Then he suddenly jumped back up. “I forgot your drink, Isabela. And I made cake. I’ll be right back!” And with a flurry of feathers, Anders was away again at the other end of the small, but cozy cabin.

Isabela followed her friend’s movements. He either was ignorant of Fenris’ condition, or too aware. Probably the latter.

“He’s wasting his energy on this… he should stop it….he…”

“He’s pampering me, let him be.”

Fenris said wistfully and took another sip from the mystery content in his cup. It apparently tasted as bad as it smelled.

“I’m not one to hide behind pleasantries... you know you look terrible!”

“Anders and I are both aware that I look more like an actual lyrium ghost each day, yes.”

Despite the remark, Fenris still managed a smile. And Isabela sunk down. She had hoped for a fight. Really hoped she could yell at someone to get away the panic that had griped her as soon as she caught a look at Fenris. But now… The elf seemed so calm. Almost happy. Maybe he was. At least he could spend his final days with the man he loved most. In freedom. Isabela felt unbidden tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m glad you came to visit, Isabela!”

Another gentle smile and Isabela was undone. She didn’t even bother to cover up her sobbing with any kind of pretence.

It was probably time to finally make up with Merrill. And take her here. Before…


	42. “You know you want it, sweetheart.” (50)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special shopping trip with Isabela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @tearsofwinter

„No… no that is not the right look! It has to be something special…”

Anders gave himself a long look in the huge mirror. But the dark blue robes with the silver trim just didn’t work for him. They might look good next to Fenris, who was going for black – obviously – but they just weren’t the look Anders wanted for their wedding.

“Well, that’s the same frown you gave the last ten robes sweetheart. Why do you insist on robes anyway?” Isabela lounged on the chair next to Anders and pursed her lips. “IF you want special, maybe stop looking in the robe section!”

The mage sighed and shook his head. “What else should I wear?” He turned towards his friend and was met with a mischievous grin. “Oh leave it to me! I’ll be right back.” And with that Isabela disappeared in the back of the small Hightown shop. The seamstress was an elderly woman from Orlais, that constantly complaint about the lack of fashion sense in Kirkwall. Her gowns, robes, and tunics were stunning and detailed and definitely not lacking in anything. Also not in price. But Fenris insisted that Anders bought whatever took his fancy.

Justice had ranted on the topic of “wasting money on finery” for over a month before the spirit gave in. As soon as Anders declared Justice was no longer completely opposed to wearing some fine garment for the wedding, Isabela had grabbed Anders’ hand and Fenris’ purse and they were off to this special shop.

The walls were lined with shelves and wardrobes and dressmaking dolls with the most fanciful stuff Anders had ever seen. He might have let out a squeal of delight. The seamstress seemed pleased with her customers and Isabela had helped him pick out the most beautiful clothes. All chosen to make his eyes and hair colour stand out even more.

For a moment, Anders had eyed the white silk robes with a hopeful look, but Isabela had immediately intervened. As did the shopkeeper. “No, no, this is too plain for you! Too ordinary!” Her nose scrunched up at the word as if it was an offense in itself. “Take something dark. It will make your hair shine like gold!” With that she ran a strand of Anders’ hair through her hand and then turned to Isabela. Together the two women had disappeared between rows of beautiful garments and brought back several robes in velvet and silk and satin.

While Isabela was away to get something “not a robe” Anders sighed. He was beginning to regret this. There was nothing that would turn his apostate self into a dashing prince. Or even something remotely close. Then something shining, dark green and black was shoved into his face.

“Here! Give this a try!”

And within a second he was ushered into the small stall, the curtain was closed behind him and Anders had a chance to eye the garment more closely. He almost gasped in shock.

“Isabela, are you sure you gave me the right thing?”

A soft purring noise and “Of course I am sure!” settled the matter and Anders wondered why in Andraste’s name he had asked Isabela for help. Well… on second thought… she was the only one with a bit of taste. Varric would choose something to outline Anders’ almost none existent chest hair, Merrill would go for flowers. And as much as Anders liked flowers he didn’t want to look like a rose garden at his wedding. Aveline’s and his taste in clothes clashed quite a bit and Hawke. Hawke was completely out of the question.

He would have loved to ask Bethany but she hardly got leave to attend the wedding in little less over a month.

So it had to be Isabela.

Once Anders had laced himself up as best as he could, he tried to smooth the wrinkles in the flowing silk fabric and stepped out of his changing stall.

“Dear me, Sparklefingers you look delicious!”

Anders instantly blushed and walked over to the mirror. His mouth fell open and he stared at himself for a good minute. The pirate might have a point.

Instead of the robes, Isabela had chosen a dress. Or something that seemed like a blend between robes and dress and just looked… fabulous. Anders almost didn’t dare to say the word. He had deemed his handsome days long gone, but just as the seamstress had said, the dark tone of the garment made his hair stand out even more and somehow managed to make him look younger than he was. Isabela had definitely chosen this dress because of the black feathers on the shoulder and the delicate gold embellishments on the corset-like middle part. Sneaky pirate! Now Anders was glad he had her with him. She actually was considerate enough to incorporate his style into her choices.

He turned to test the sway of the skirt and was positively surprised how the hem curled around his legs. It was perfect.

“Isabela, are you sure I can wear a dress…?”

Anders had half made up his mind already that THIS was the perfect piece of clothing, but he was afraid Fenris might object. 

“There is hardly any difference between robes and a dress anyway, Sweetie. Except.” Isabela emphasized her words with lazily running her fingers along the corset, “your tiny waist would completely disappear underneath all this useless fabric.” She gave the discarded robes an offended glance. “I am sure your husband to be will appreciate to see you look so tempting. I bet he won’t keep his hands off you.” Her smile got wider and she pinched Anders’ butt. The mage reacted with a startled gasp. “Bela!”

“See, even I can’t keep my hands off you!”

“You never can.”

Anders smirked back then turned towards the mirror again. The man looking back had little resemblance to the Healer of Darktown. But he looked a lot like the apostate who befriended the Hero of Ferelden and for the first time in his life felt free. All the gold and fine fabric and shining feathers. It was gorgeous.

“You know you want it, sweetheart.”

Isabela purred behind his ear and Anders felt inclined to agree.


	43. “Ready or not, here I come.” (121)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parent fenders <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @Dirty_Corza  
> I promised fluff, I hope this is considered fluff

Anders was still slowly counting down from 100, his eyes pressed shut, trying to ignore the faint giggles in the distance.

It was the annual birthday party. THE only birthday celebration that mattered. Out of the mess of children Fenris and he had adopted over the years they only knew the birthday from the baby currently held by the baby sling around Anders’ chest.

Fenris and Anders loved their kids.

None was biologically theirs of course. Because neither Fenris nor Anders felt like sharing their bed with anyone but each other. So for the sake of being parents they had adopted. Without even planning to do so in the first place.

Their eldest daughter’s adoption was completely spontaneous and Anders still laughed at Fenris sudden outcry of “Well simply adopt her and be her parents. She cannot stay here!”. It had been after a trip with Hawke when they had ended up trying to save people from bandits on the road. But the only one left alive was the small elven girl. She had instantly clung to Fenris, who cradled her in his arms all the way back to Kirkwall. Once they had reached the orphanage neither Fenris nor Anders felt like departing with the girl.

“Only for a while!” They had said at first. Fenris cleaned up another room of the mansion and Varric somehow managed to acquire a child sized bed within a day.

It wasn’t often used, though. Most of the nights Nirea fell asleep on Anders’ lap. She always waited for him to come home from the clinic, so they could all eat together. After that Anders and occasionally Fenris had to read stories with her until she fell asleep. Mostly on her father’s lap as he dozed off as well.

When they celebrated the first “birthday” on a random date Anders had picked because “Birthdays are important and should be honoured” it had become clear to them that “for a little while” had morphed into “forever”. And while their young girl was still staring wide eyed at the gigantic cake Aveline had brought for the occasion, Anders had the feeling, that she wouldn’t be an only child for long.

The next time, it wasn’t Fenris but Anders who demanded that they would adopt the child. It was a boy. Hardly older than 5. Anders happened upon the upset and crying grandmother in Darktown who kept on rambling about her poor grandson and magic and that her son-in-law despised magic above all. It had basically been all the information Anders needed. Within little more than a week, he had sought out the father, confronted him on the matter, gotten quite a bit angry, was calmed down by Fenris again and eventually left the startled man with the child in his arms.

The human boy had been quite confused. For a month, he kept on calling them “Ser” and offered his help in the clinic as payment for his rescue and training in magic. Anders’s heart bled for the small child with the soft freckles all over his face and the honest smile. He was a good boy. He had been helping his father after his mother’s death. His help never valued nor acknowledged. Hence Anders made sure to never let anything go unnoticed. Every small deed and accomplishment in controlling his magic was met with praise and gratefulness and a smile and soon Erik dropped the “Ser”. And only a few months later when Nirea and he were brought to bed by Fenris a soft “good night daddy” slipped over his lips.

The elf’s barely constrained excitement over this, made Anders smile as well. They were a family. A highly unusual one. But every day, every minute with his love and his children made Anders’ heart lighter. Even as the days in Kirkwall grew darker and darker for mages.

Another boy followed next. Another elf. He had hidden on a ship, escaped from his master and ended up in Kirkwall after weeks at sea. Isabela had found him at the docks, hiding behind barrels, half-starved and burning with fever.

It was obvious soon enough that the boy only spoke Tevene. As soon as Isabela had brought him to Anders’ clinic, he had send her to fetch Fenris, because his own skills were definitely not sufficient enough to make out the heavily accented whispers in between the boy’s feverish dreams. Fenris came in haste, their two other kids save with Merrill for the night. He had sat on the boy’s side one whole night and far into the next day until Anders was sure that he would make it. At first, he had refused the strange smelling healing concoction Anders had made, but Fenris had been able to persuade him to take it. The child had been in shock, then in awe that he was faced by another elf that spoke his language. An elf that was most definitely free. But from Tevinter.

It was no surprise that he followed Fenris around as soon as he had recovered enough to do so. At first only when Fenris came to visit Anders, mostly with the two others kids in tow who immediately tried to animate him to play with them. When he was well again and it was clear he had nowhere to go, Fenris wordlessly cleaned another room in the mansion. The child stared in unguarded wonder. He couldn’t comprehend how this could be “his”, as in his room. A very colourful array of Tevene words flew out of his mouth that was too fast for Anders to follow. But Fenris knelt down and explained in a steady and slow voice that this would be his home, if he wanted it to be. Anders noticed that Fenris spoke so slow on his behalf, so he could follow their conversation as well. His elf. Always more considerate than he was given credit for.

The boy had clasped his hands in front of his mouth and started crying in joy. It was immediately apparent to Anders how much a child so vibrant and open in his emotions most have suffered in slavery. The mere thought made Justice flare with rage and Anders heart broke a little at the thought of all the children who dreamt of being free. Anders promised himself that if anything, he would offer this child all the love he was capable of. And maybe a little more.

Some time later that night, they all had ended up in the pile of children on Fenris’ and Anders’ bed, but none of them did mind. 

Two more “birthdays” had come and passed. Nirea was old enough to look after Aveline’s new-born by the time Anders had adopted their latest child. Even before his friend had rushed into the clinic, her belly clasped in her hands, tears streaming down her face, asking him for help, he had had a feeling that this wouldn’t be a normal birth. Miriam worked at The Rose. Raising a child in that environment was out of the question, but she wanted to give the baby a chance to life. As much as she felt incapable for the task herself, she wanted for the child to grow up happy and loved.

When Anders had cut the cord, and held the new-born in his arms he suddenly thought that this would be the closet he would ever get at providing for a child from the moment they were born. And without being asked to, he volunteered to take care of the baby. The mother smiled in relief and fatigue and the baby let out a loud cry before she fell silent and look at Anders intently. It was the most beautiful sound Anders had ever heard.

Or at least among them. Fenris lowly whispering his name when they had their bed to themselves. Or the laughter of his family were definitely close to being a favourite as well.

The birth of the youngest had been half a year ago, and another “birthday celebration” was due. This time Hawke had offered their estate and especially garden for the event. Probably because they wanted to join in the inevitable game of hide and seek and get a slice of Aveline’s obligatory cake.

Varric had taken a seat in the library. He claimed to read some of Hawke’s books for research, but Anders was fairly sure the only research the dwarf made was how he could make Fenris blush this year when he told their children about the earlier days of their fathers’ “courtship”.

Merrill was somewhere around as well. As far as Anders knew her, she was probably perched upon the highest branch of the apple tree. As every year. And she always seemed surprised when Anders found her first.

Isabela claimed to be too old for these kind of games, but attended anyway. Though it was never officially spoken she acted as some kind of godmother to Rafael, whose name she had chosen with Fenris, and the young elf had definitely picked up some of her traits already. No matter how Anders hid the jar with cookies, he always found it. Much to the joy of his siblings.

Aveline sat at on the large blanket on the grass and observed the situation. Anders wasn’t sure if she wanted to make sure her child didn’t adopt too many “bad habits” from Fenris’ and his wild bunch or if she genuinely liked to be there. Probably a combination of both.

“98, 99, 100. Ready or not, here I come!”

The baby giggled at Anders’ yell and with a smile the mage opened his eyes, adjusted the sling and went for the apple tree. He absolutely loved his children’s birthday.


	44. “Is he coming home?” (112)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fenders, Inquisition timeline
> 
> WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

A poisoned wound had kept him from accompanying Hawke to Adamant.

Something as trivial as a wound and a little poison! Kaffas!

So, the mage had gone instead. His mage.

His mage that was now nowhere to be seen as the Inquisitor, his companions and Hawke entered the gates into Skyhold.

Fenris saw how Varric ran down the stairs and tackled Hawke to the ground in a desperate hug.

Word had arrived over a week ago, that the Inquisitor and some others had disappeared in the middle of the fight. Seemingly falling into a rift not to be seen again.

The dwarf and elf had almost lost their mind in anger and worry which both tried to ease in their own way. Varric by writing raven after raven to require news from the occupied fortress and Fenris by limping around Skyhold in an attempt to pick up his training routine ahead of time. He knew his leg was still not fully mended. But what did he care for his own health with Hawke and Anders possibly missing alongside the Inquisitor?

Few days later the raven had arrived who brought them relief. Everyone was back from the Fade. Because that was where they had been transported to. A warden had given his life to safe them all. The Inquisitor’s forces and his friends would be back at Skyhold within a week.

The week had been agony. Bothersome. Pointless. Fenris’ leg had been on the mend. Still there was no use in sword practice so he spent most of his time reading in the library. The familiar buzzing tension in the air of all the mages around him, unexpectedly soothing in the absence of the only mage that mattered to him.

And now this.

Varric and Hawke on the ground, crying.

The Inquisitor pale but victorious holding onto his own mage, the infuriatingly smirking one from Tevinter. To be fair he was not smirking now.

Person after person filtered through the gate and was hugged and kissed and greeted by those that had stayed behind.

Yet Fenris couldn’t make out the familiar strands of gold and silver. The voice that had once been so irritating was now suspiciously absent from the noise that filled the courtyard.

Or was that noise just inside Fenris’ head?

He felt how he dragged himself forward. The stone steps cold under his feet, the cobbles digging into his toes, a hand suddenly reaching to take his and letting go again. Fenris shortly caught a glimpse at Varric’s gaze. It didn’t last long and fell towards the ground when the emotion became too much.

Hawke stood there. Her raven hair unkempt and lose, not bound back in her usual low ponytail. Her smile was gone. The soft glimmer that had flared up at the sight of Varric, was extinguished again and made way for mortification.

“Where is he?”

Was this his voice? Fenris barely recognized the low whisper as something familiar. It seemed foreign and far away.

Hawke didn’t answer. Her eyes filled with tears instead.

“Hawke!”

Fenris’ voice was back. It was his voice, undoubtedly, but he didn’t remember ever hearing it break so many times when all he said was one word.

“Where is he? He’s coming home, isn’t he? He is coming home?”

The elf felt the lyrium burn brightly and he was opposite his friend in a flash of white, his hands digging into the fabric on her shoulder.

“The mage! Anders! Is he coming home?! HAWKE!”

Silence. Was it the courtyard? Had every noise died down? Or was this all just his mind shutting everything out?

There was no answer. No words of comfort. No words at all for a very long time. Instead a shaking breath made way for tears that fell freely. Tears. Fenris couldn’t recall when he had last cried. When he had last cried in front of someone else. All he could recollect in combination with it were feathers and blonde hair and a soft soothing voice.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around him. And only for that moment he would let them. Fenris knew they were not the arms he wanted to lose himself in. Fenris knew it was not his mage but another. He knew that man was gone. Along with his warmth and kindness. His nervous laughter and feline obsession. His lopsided grins and honest smiles. His passion and humour.

But just for this moment he wanted to pretend that his mage had returned to him one last time.

A warden had saved everyone.

And Fenris would never forgive himself that he had forgotten, that the only mage that mattered to him, had been a Grey Warden as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you all knew the last "drabbles" were too much fluff. it couldn't last...


	45. Through the Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fade. The Nightmare. And one Apostate possessed by a Spirit of Justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @blueelvewithwings asked me to write a sequel to “Is he coming home?”
> 
> And after I effectively broke so many hearts, I thought it was only fair to try and piece them back together. at least a bit.
> 
> Hope you like this. As always it grew longer than planned.

Blood everywhere… Or rather the Fade version of blood, that didn’t really stick but evaporated into thin air after the blink of an eye. Justice stood in the middle of what had once been the Nightmare. And nothing was left of it. The Fade collapsed around them and they fell.

For moments that turned into hours they simply fell upwards, steadily passing floating rocks, hints of dreams and whole landscapes. Until they finally made contact with something that seemed solid enough to walk on. With a curse that was distinctly less Justice’ s but Anders’ doing, they started their long journey through the Fade.

It was hard to track time here. Everything was in movement, nothing lasted long enough to count the hours. The light changed as it pleased, sometimes depending on the dream they crossed, sometimes with a flash of energy that made Justice’s ears buzz with the song he had missed for so long. Anders heard it as well. As clear as never before. Unlike his spirit friend there was a slight unease that captured his heart whenever the song got louder. Walking corporally through the Fade definitely wasn’t among his favourite experiences within his life. Although it was still better than the Deep Roads. More Demons, to be fair, but at least no Darkspawn and not tunnels and chambers that kept creeping in on him when he didn’t look.

Time drifted past and Justice and Anders still followed the soft call of something neither of them could place. They needed to find a way out.

The rift through the fabric of the veil had closed behind the Inquisitor. Anders could still see Hawke’s expression, the way she had clung to his hand till the last second, ignoring the cracks and bolts of energy from Justice, even though Anders knew how much it frightened her.

Then her face disappeared, along with all the others. Justice had turned to face the Nightmare.

As with their journey Anders couldn’t tell how long they had fought. How long the battle of willpower and strength had lasted. The only thing that mattered though was, that they had won.

_‘I could swear we passed that rock some time ago...’_

Anders let his thoughts echo loudly through their head and gained a dark huff from Justice. “YOU SAY THAT ABOUT EVERY ROCK, ANDERS!” His voice rung clear through the indefinite space and Anders flinched. The last time they had had an open conversation a pack of desire demons had found them, fascinated and intrigued by the strange creature that was half spirit, half human. One of them distinctly resembling a certain elf, Anders heart longed for more than ever.

That had been some days ago. Or hours? Or weeks? Anders didn’t know.

This time the only thing that seemed to move towards them was the winding path that changed its direction in front of their eyes and moved through low hanging branches of a tree that looked like every tree Anders had ever seen and none at the same time.

The path rose in front of their feet. But Justice’s speed never wavered. Where Anders would have struggled with his more and more ill-fitting boots or fatigue, the spirit just moved on. When Anders felt tired he just slipped into a state of heavy, dreamless slumber and returned to this hovering existence trapped in his own mind when he woke up.

Without a real change of scenery, the path went on and Justice followed. Nothing indicated a difference between that new segment of the Fade and the rest. But both Anders and Justice felt themselves drawn along. Slowly the surroundings changed. The hillslope that was none, rose higher and higher into the air. They could see other worlds and smaller rocks float in the distance. If not for that fact, the path made out of sand and cobbles alongside the grass and small bushes, Anders felt himself reminded of the Wounded Coast. It had been years since he had been there. Years since the first time he accompanied Hawke. Years since the first time he had argued with Fenris.

Anders sighed and it was so strong, the sigh forced itself out of their mouth despite Justice who startled for a second. “THINKING OF HIM ONLY MAKES US SAD. STOP IT ANDERS!”

But just as all the other times Justice had reminded him of that, it was easier said than done. When all he could do was watching the Fade through Justice’s eyes, it was hard not to ponder on Fenris. And how much time had passed anyway? How was he? And most of all, how was he ever getting back to him? Anders could vividly imagine the fit of anger, when Hawke returned to Skyhold without him. Maker, he hoped Fenris hadn’t hurt her or anyone… or himself. He would have urged Justice to walk faster if the Spirit wasn’t already moving as quick as Anders’ mortal body allowed.

And then they stopped.

Confused Anders directed his focus towards the outside world and would have jumped back if he had been in possessing of legs.

There was an Eluvian at the end of the path.

Tall. Unbroken. Opaque Surface swirling like mist.

It looked exactly like the one Merrill had tried to get back together all these years in Kirkwall. Did she ever finish her work? Anders wasn’t sure. He had never paid much attention to Merrill’s mirror. And now he wished he had.

“THE DALISH MAGE WANTED TO RECREATE ONE OF THESE…” There was a degree of wonder in Justice’s voice, that surprised Anders. “NEVER HAVE I SEEN AN INTACT ONE BEFORE.”

 _‘Isn’t there some demon behind this?’_ Anders’ worry shifted from Fenris to the more acute worry about Justice. The spirit seemed to be transfixed by the everchanging surface of the mirror. Something that he had definitely not expected.

“NO. IT IS MAGIC. VERY OLD. MAYBE SHE WAS RIGHT. THEY COULD BE AS OLD AS THE ELVHEN CULTURE ITSELF.”

Anders would have opened his eyes wide if he had control over his body at the step Justice took towards the mirror. It was as if something was calling him. The mage, too, could hear something like a faint whisper. Was it the magic within the mirror? Or something beyond it?

There was no time left to consider the question. As if in trance Justice lifted his hand towards the moving surface. Anders could do nothing but watch in horror. He was sure they would be hexed instantly. Or worse, killed. There was no way to resist the temptation to touch the Eluvian. And no way to stop the Spirit in control of his body from following the eerie call.

Then there was a strange feeling as if something pulled them forward and moments later they found themselves on their knees in a place that was dark and grey and silent. Even more silent than the last part of the Fade they were in.

They looked up and the sight made Anders’ heart almost freeze in shock and wonder.

Suddenly the Eluvian was behind them. Or maybe it was a different Eluvian. Because they were at an entirely different place. There were no more floating landscapes and giggling demons in the distance. It was quiet. Mist was curling around the Eluvian they had obviously stepped through. And the one next to them. And the one behind them. And…

Anders turned his head or rather Justice turned their head. Everywhere they looked, were different Eluvians. All seemingly the same. A few broken. A few gone blind. But most of them whole and towering above them with promises of unknown journeys.

_‘What is this place?’_

Never had Anders heard of such a place. And he was sure Merrill had never mentioned a whole graveyard of Eluvians all existing in the same space. She would probably be delighted and a lot faster to decipher the delicate runes on the mirrors than Anders. He dearly wished she was there. But the wish was futile. Merrill was worlds away, probably sailing some distant sea with Isabela. And Justice and he were here. In the Fade, if this place still belonged to it at all. They were trapped between countless Eluvians that to him held little distinction.

“I DON’T KNOW.”

Justice finally admitted and seemed just as lost as Anders felt. It was terrible. All the time since facing the Nightmare, Justice had been a force Anders could cling to. A guide that knew the Fade better than him. But now his spirit friend had no idea where they were. The soft voice that had called them hence was gone. Probably left behind in the part of the Fade that despite all its dangers and horrors at least wasn’t devoid of sound. Here, there was nothing. Just fog and a vague cold light and Eluvians in every direction.

And a rustling of leaves as if someone was passing by.

Justice swirled around abruptly. There had to be someone or something else. Trying to evade the other mirrors, Justice followed the faint sound of soft footsteps. Then there was a hint of black and featers. The familiar scent of magic in the air that disappeared behind another Eluvian and was gone.

When they reached the specific mirror, Anders caught the faint hint of perfume. It seemed familiar but not enough for him to remember where he knew it from. 

_‘Whoever it was, left through this mirror.’_ There was an underlying question in his remark and although Justice normally wasn’t one for subtly, he understood the hint. “SO, YOU THINK WE SHOULD FOLLOW?”

To be honest with himself and the Spirit, Anders was not sure. But something about the being that had left through the Eluvian seemed to be real enough. It might even be another real person trapped in this place. And even if it was just a demon trying to lure them into a trap, they had not much of an alternative. They could stay here and study the mirrors forever. Or follow the fleeting trace of something that seemed mortal and real and hopefully less suspicious than this place.

Justice threw a last glance over their shoulder. It was quiet again. No sound apart from their own breathing. The mist was still moving behind them as if it was an image of the swirling surface of the mirrors. Or maybe the Eluvians were the image and this mist the reality? With a deep sigh, Justice and Anders left the place and unresolved questions behind them and stepped into the mirror.

This time Anders landed on all fours. He was panting heavily, his hands chafed by falling onto the stone floor. Floor?

Large stone tiles filled the room. Because it was definitely a room. Not just some random piece of the Fade. There were windows that reached up towards the ceiling and sunlight filled the chamber.

Then Anders’ gaze fell towards his hands. His hands. Pale and even. No cracks or blue lightning. Just himself. _‘Justice?’_ , he immediately asked himself and got a content hum in reply. _‘WE ARE BACK!’_ the Spirit finally said and that was when Anders turned around and was met by a pair of suspiciously narrowed golden eyes.

“It’s you?”

Morrigan.

It had to be her. Anders had seen the other mage sometimes with the Inquisitor. And he would never forget the description the Warden-Commander had giving of their friend, who was apparently a daughter of Flemeth and even easier to displease than Nathaniel. It had gained a good laugh from everyone back at Vigil’s Keep. Especially Oghren who confirmed every part of it.

But now Morrigan was directly in front of him. Well above him, for Anders still lay on the floor. With hasty movements, the mage got up and faced Morrigan’s disbelieving sneer with a smile.

“If you mean, that I am Anders, yes, it’s me.”

Morrigan reacted as expected. She rolled her eyes and narrowed her gaze as if she was studying Anders’ appearance. And only then, under Morrigan’s scrutinizing observation did it occur to Anders, that if that was Morrigan, he must be in Skyhold. Which meant he was exactly where he wanted to be. Exactly where Hawke and the Inquisitor would arrive soon. Or had arrived. Maybe? He didn’t know.

Before Anders could make up his mind which question to ask first, Morrigan spoke up again.

“I was ordered to search for you, but apparently, you found back yourself.” She fixed Anders’ eyes with another long glance. “Your spirit, is he…”

“Justice is fine. He defeated the demon and brought me through the Fade.” If Morrigan was asked to look for him in the Fade the others must have returned recently. There could not have passed a lot time since he had sent everyone away from the Fade. Right?

“You are lucky you had him. Months within the Fade without a guide normally result in insanity. Or worse. Although I am not convinced you ARE quite sane.” There was the hint of a smile playing across Morrigan’s lips and Anders was almost sure she had meant it as a joke. Yet her next sentence brought her normal haughty expression back. “Anyway. I will report back to the Inquisitor that you are safe. He will be glad, I am sure.” She was on her way to the door and almost outside when she turned again. “Oh, and you should probably stop by the tavern and keep that elf of yours from drinking Skyhold dry. And maybe eat. Not even I have stayed that long inside the Fade, you might experience some fatigue and hunger. You could consult Solas…” Then she shook her head. “… if you make it out of the tavern alive that is.”

For a moment, Anders lingered after the heavy wooden door closed. Why wouldn’t he survive a meeting with Fenris? Then Justice huffed uneasily and Anders remembered what she had said. Months. He had been trapped and lost and probably deemed dead for months.

_‘Oh no…’_

Despite the wobbly quality of his legs – walking through the Fade without food obviously wasn’t a healthy idea – Anders made for the Tavern as fast as he could. Almost everyone he passed on his way from the room with the Eluvian through the garden and over the courtyard either jumped out of his way with a yelp or shriek or desperate “Maker have mercy!” or stood transfixed as if they had seen a ghost. Did he look so terrifying or were they simply convinced he had returned from the dead to haunt the castle?

The second option was the less preferable one. If everyone seemed to be thinking he was dead, so would Fenris. _‘Oh no!’_ , he thought again and tried to increase his speed. Even the clank of a sword dropped and a heavily accented “Sweet Maker, he’s alive!” from where he knew Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast to be, couldn’t stop him. A bunch of soldiers hurried out of his way as he approached the tavern door and without an explanation or apology he swung the door open. The sight that greeted him almost broke his heart.

A familiar shock of white hair, that was shaggy and dull and not really white at all drew his attention towards the bar instantly. A round of gasps ran through the room. The shock and surprise didn’t reach the elf though.

A heavy slur of words that sounded vaguely like “Whoever opened that door should damn well close it again!” tumbled out of Fenris’ mouth and for a second Anders was too shocked to speak. The last time he had seen Fenris like that was the night Danarius came for him. The night Fenris had met and was betrayed by his sister and had almost killed her. After hours, Anders had finally managed to coax the bottle from Fenris’ grasp and manoeuvred the elf to his bed. Cursing and yelling and finally crying until he fell asleep against Anders’ chest had been the result. Fenris had been utterly broken and vulnerable. But no one had seen it, but Anders. No one had been present to witness the extent of his hurt sight. Here, Fenris’ drunken misery was on full display. And if that was so, Anders knew that the misery his elf had felt over apparently losing him had to be even greater. Otherwise Fenris would not have ended up here. Where were Hawke and Varric? Why had they not stopped this sorry display of grief? Months! Morrigan’s words echoed through Anders’ mind and it made him sick. He had wandered through the Fade for months. Months Fenris had spent sitting on that chair drinking himself unconscious. And no one had stopped him.

Anders would have to do it. There was no way he would allow that his love would lose himself in alcohol and heartache.

“Fenris! Stop… please!”

He took a small step further into the room. The silence was broken. People shuffled either back into their corners of the tavern or hastily out of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Anders could make out the Iron Bull and his Chargers. The tall warrior was as white as a sheet. _‘He probably really thinks I am a ghost…’_

Slowly the elf in front of him turned around. His armour less-hands thinner than usual, firmly holding onto the bottle Fenris was apparently using instead of a mug. Heavy eyelids fluttered for a bit as his gaze fell on Anders. The mage gulped. What would Fenris say? Would he be mad at him, that he had taken so long to come back?

But then Fenris’ face split into a sneer and a chill ran down Anders’ spine at the mirthless expression.

“You got nerve demon, wearing his face!” His words were slurred and dripping with a remarkable amount of hate. 

The tavern went back to absolute quiet.

“Demon…?”

Anders didn’t understand. 

“How did you even get past the guards… no matter.” After a deep swig from the bottle, Fenris got up and fumbled half-heartedly for his sword that was propped against the bar.

“You’ll face me for that insult!”

Anders wasn’t even sure if Fenris could see straight, let alone walk or fight. And there was no need to fight anyway. He would never lay hands on him!

Suddenly the door crashed into the wall again as Varric and Hawke rushed into the room. They stopped dead as they were faced with the scene.

“Keep out of it, Hawke! I will rip the demon apart!”

“Are you mad Fenris? It’s Anders!”

Hawke’s eyes filled with tears, her face set in a determined frown. With only a few steps she was between Fenris and the mage. The elf growled lowly.

“Stop interfering Hawke! It’s just a demon wearing his face! I WILL NEVER FALL FOR THEIR TRICKS AGAIN! NO ONE WILL MOCK ME THAT WAY AGAIN!”

Anders heard the way Fenris’ voice broke, the small crack in between his words and the shrug before he pulled himself together, hateful eyes directed at him. He swayed a bit. Probably too drunk to keep his posture. It was heart-breaking. For once, Anders didn’t know what to say. How could he convince Fenris that he was real? That he was alive and back? Tears sprung from his own eyes in desperation. How could he make Fenris believe?

It was not him who came up with an idea. And when he realized Justice’s plan the light of the Fade was already cracking through his skin, eyes shining blue while his own consciousness was pulled back into his mind.

“I HAVE NOT SUPPORTED AND PROTECTED ANDERS IN THE FADE FOR YOU TO DISMISS HIM THUS! YOU’RE BEHAVIOUR IS UNJUST!”

The sword Fenris was still holding in his now trembling hands, clattered to the ground. After a few clumsy steps the elf broke down to the ground, his alcohol clouded eyes suddenly frighteningly clear apart from the tears that started falling instantly.

“Anders?...”


	46. “Am I scaring you?” (86)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heated night takes an unwanted turn.
> 
> WARNING: mention of past rape and abuse! Panic attack! Don't read this if this is not for you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @ithinkitsdashing

A successful day in helping some slaves to escape from their captors led to a party afterwards. The Hanged Man was packed as ever, their group uncharacteristically joined the general commotion to listen to the bard that entertained the local drunkards with their songs and tales. The atmosphere was quite relaxed and for once Fenris didn’t feel like shying away with a scowl whenever someone nudged into him by accident. Nor did he mind when Anders’ hand found his and pulled him slightly closer. Anders’ touch was familiar. The way his fingers curled around his. The soft pressure. The angle Anders held their hands close. The gently motions of Anders’ thumb brushing over the back of Fenris’ hand.

Fenris knew these touches well. He loved them, cherished them when they occurred and longed for them in their absence.

The enthusiasm of the day washed away some of his usual inhibitions and despite their general lack of display of public affection, Fenris pulled his mage down towards himself. Their lips met in a more passionate than tender kiss and when they broke apart, Anders stared at him in disbelief and unmistakable want.

“Home?”, Fenris offered with a smirk and Anders obviously got the meaning. Because moments later with a suggestive “Have fun” yelled after them by Isabela” they found themselves tumbling out the door and stumbling up to Hightown. It was no clear path. More than once they stopped. Anders out of breath from giggling and Fenris having to steady him, smiling quite foolishly himself. It ended as it had to. With Anders pressed close against Fenris and mostly against a nearby wall or building and kissed until they were breathless and one of them could pull their wits together enough to utter a panted “we should probably move on”.

It took them the better part of an hour to actually reach Fenris’ mansion and even inside the building they simply couldn’t keep their hands of each other. Nor their mouths who seemed to meet for kisses after every few steps. Finally, Anders’ knees hit the back of the mattress of Fenris’ bed and the mage fell over with a chuckle. A second later Fenris followed, with a lot more coordination and a well-placed leg, gently but decidedly pressing between Anders’ legs.

It was a tumble of sheets, clothes and limps later when Fenris found himself pushed into the soft pillows, Anders hovering slightly above him, his breath heavy and shaking with unconstrained mirth. A wide grin on his face. 

Then there was the mage’s hand cupping his cheek, winding its way into his hair and playfully gliding over the tip of his ear with a gentle squeeze.

And suddenly Fenris froze.

Memories. Faint and dull and foggy like an autumn morning spun through his head. Images flashed before his eyes. Sharp in the emotion they left behind. Sharp and clear in the humiliation, the complete submission, the fear and the unmistakable wish to please.

With a curt shake of his head Fenris got rid of Anders’ hand and pulled himself up. The smile on Anders’ lips died immediately and made way for worry.

“Am I scaring you, love? I am sorry if I was too fast I…”

“NO!”

The yell thundered from his throat faster than Fenris could hold it back. He got out from under Anders and moved to the other side of the bed. “No!” He repeated more to himself and the ghostly visions before his inner eye.

“Am I scaring you, little wolf?”

A voice cold and loveless. Eyes like steel. Intelligent, but devoid of any compassion. A hand brushing through his hair. Squeezing his ear in a gesture mirroring affection where there was none. Just hunger. And the will to break and possess.

These pictures didn’t belong to this time. Not to this mage. But another.

Inside Fenris’ head they began to merge for a second, before a third “No!” left him and he slung his arms over his own head, his own fingernails digging deep into his scalp.

Danarius.

Not Anders.

Danarius had done that to him.

Not Anders.

The deliberate strokes over the lyrium along his arms. The swap of a tongue over sensitive spots that made Fenris’ body react and betray him despite himself. Only the softest whimper escaping him. The reward: a short winning smile from his master. He was a good slave. A good pet. A good little wolf. He would endure the fear, the touch and the pain for only the hint of acknowledgement.

No!

This time there was no voice left to yell with. No sound, not even a whisper would come over his lips, while Fenris battled the only real demon he had ever known.

All of this belonged to a different mage, a different time, a different space.

Anders was none of that.

Where Danarius had simply admired his own handiwork in the lyrium brands, Anders adored the elf that was hidden beneath them. Where Danarius was searching for and demanding his own pleasure, Anders wanted to please. Where Danarius wanted to break, Anders healed. Danarius was cold. Anders was warm. Danarius was a creature sprung from a nightmare. Anders needed to be kept from them. At all costs. 

Danarius wanted to rule him, command him, have his body and mind at his feet.

Anders merely wanted Fenris to be himself. To feel loved. And safe. And free.

With that Fenris’ head snapped back up. He had no idea how long he had sat there, face hidden between his arms, silently weeping while he tried to stop Danarius from ghosting through his mind and over his body. The magister still lingered there. But he was not as prominent as before. The cold touch of careless hands taking what they needed where a scar on his soul. But with a pang of shock and relief Fenris realized it was a scar. Not a wound. Danarius could haunt him and probably would haunt him still. But he was not there. He was not there to do any actual harm. He was not there to grab Fenris and take him for himself. He was not there to twist his very thoughts and warp it into longing for the perverted pleasure of the Magister’s caress. Danarius was not there. But Anders was. And for the first time after what felt like years of fighting against himself and his past, Fenris met Anders’ gaze.

Anders just sat there at the other end of the bed, his hands folded on his knees, holding onto each other, probably to comfort himself. He waited.

And Fenris knew that despite everything and the confusion and hurt the mage must have felt, Anders would wait. His mage would probably wait an eternity for him to get better. He would stay there, to assure Fenris of his assistance, without offering the touch he so obviously craved to calm his own nerves, because he knew it would be too much. Oh, Anders knew him so well.

This thought alone seemed to lift a weight of Fenris’ heart and he carefully got closer and sat down next to him again. He knew that it was not going to be magically better instantly. The hollow ache in his chest and the menacing laughter inside his head reminded him of that sufficiently. But Anders was aware of that, too. And this knowledge was far more comforting than Fenris had excepted. Anders knew and felt or could at least guess what went through Fenris’ mind. He would not judge him for it. Not even if the process of healing took even longer than both of them would have liked. Still, there was nothing but understanding and empathy in the mage’ eyes.

Warmth. Patience. Love.

Never had Fenris expected to find these qualities in a mage. But he had. And he would fight the tenfold amount of demons in his head to be worthy of this mage. To achieve this, he needed to fight his past. To get over the memories haunting him. And Fenris knew that Anders would give him the space and security to do so.

“I am not scared of you”, he said lastly and met Anders’ gaze. His voice was weak but his words were not. “Quite the contrary, I feel save with you”.

And Anders offered him a small, soft smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As some might know from my Januanders post about Anders as a healer, I sometimes write from experience when it comes to this topic.  
> Writing is in this case some form of therapy and after a discussion tonight I could not keep this in and had to write it down, get it into words and try to move past it.  
> I hope it doesn't pull you down.  
> I appreciate each and every one of you and hope i haven't offended you with that blatant self-insert into Fenris.


End file.
